


Behind Bricks

by DeathBelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Choking, Did I mention Explicit Sexual Content?, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Prostitution, Smoking, alcohol use, because there's a lot of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:52:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 60,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: Akaashi has always had a good idea of what his future would look like.Becoming a prostitute hadn't been part of the plan.Bokuto Koutarou wasn't part of the plan, either. Akaashi meets him by chance, and is drawn in by Bokuto's optimism and authenticity. He's never met anyone like Bokuto, and despite his initial reluctance, Akaashi finds himself getting a little too attached.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no good excuse for this. I've never written a prostitute fic and I felt it needed to be done. More tags and characters will be added as we go along.
> 
> I'll update weekly, so look for new chapters every Friday!
> 
> Come talk to me on [ Tumblr!](https://worthlesspride.tumblr.com/)

Akaashi stepped into the shower and cranked the water as hot as it would go. It was nearly scalding, lapping at his skin like a flurry of tiny bites, leaving it flushed, red, and angry.

Still, it wasn’t hot enough. It was never hot enough.

Akaashi ducked his hair beneath the spray, basking in the heat. He tipped his head back and let the water slap him in the face. It burned against his cheeks and left stinging trails down to his neck. 

He stayed under as long as he could, until his lungs screamed for air. Then he emerged with a gasp and spat a mouthful of water onto the shower floor.

Akaashi would have soaked longer; fifteen minutes, thirty, maybe even hours. But he wasn’t afforded that luxury, and he washed himself quickly before cutting off the scorching stream and toweling himself dry.

Clothing had been left for him on the corner of the sink. He pinched the first article between his fingers, looking flatly at the black spandex shorts that would barely cover his ass. 

It wasn’t the most outrageous thing he’d been asked to wear; not by a long shot.

He stepped into the shorts and battled them into place, the task made more difficult by the lingering dampness of the shower. Once he’d squeezed into the uniform of the hour, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants to cover his bare legs. He would have to take them off soon, but at least he could briefly pretend to preserve his modesty. He pulled on his hooded jacket, zipped it up, and left the bathroom after one quick re-toweling of his wet hair.

It still dripped down the back of his neck, but there was no helping it. Blow drying his hair resulted in a voluminous mess, so it would have to dry at its own pace. 

If it was still a little damp when he met with his next client, well, he didn’t think they would mind all that much.

Akaashi descended the stairs, slipped past a pair of whispering women, and had one hand on the back door before he was caught.

“Yo, Leo.” 

Akaashi swallowed a sigh, his impassive expression unwavering as he turned at the sound of his pseudonym. At least it was only Konoha that had noticed him. It could have been much worse.

“You’ve got someone waiting out front,” said Konoha.

“I know,” said Akaashi. His voice came out raspy. He cleared his throat and tried again, but the results were hardly better. “I’m on my way. I just need ten minutes, all right?”

Konoha frowned at him in clear disapproval. “Smoking isn’t going to help your throat.”

“I don’t smoke.”

Konoha rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll tell him you’re still getting cleaned up. Just make it quick. I can’t keep covering for you.”

Konoha had been covering for Akaashi for the past year, ever since he’d accepted a job as a bouncer at Fukurodani. Akaashi didn’t anticipate that he would truly stop anytime soon. 

“Sure. Thanks, Konoha-san.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Konoha scoffed, waving Akaashi away as he started toward the front of the building.

Akaashi slipped out the back door, propped it open with a piece of brick shrapnel, and sat uncomfortably on the concrete doorstep. He dug into the pocket of his sweatpants, and a moment later he held a lit cigarette between his lips, sucking smoke into his already burning throat. He held his breath as long as he could, the tension bleeding from his shoulders as the nicotine soaked into his system. Then he held the cigarette away and exhaled, the smoggy cloud floating away slowly on the still night air.

It was against the rules to smoke at work. The clients didn’t appreciate their nightly company tasting like an ashtray. 

But Akaashi had discovered a brand of breath strips that extinguished the stench. They didn’t tingle so much as make his entire mouth go numb, but he didn’t mind. 

Numbness wasn’t so bad sometimes.

He sucked in another foggy breath, eyes fluttering closed as he cherished the rush.

At least this was better than what some of his coworkers did during their breaks. He’d walked in on someone snorting a line off of the bathroom sink more times than he cared to recall. Then there were the pills that got passed from hand to hand, offered in more shapes and sizes and colors than Akaashi had known existed.

He didn’t judge anyone for their coping mechanisms. He understood the need for them quite clearly. But he also couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in some of his coworkers’ more shifty practices, not if he valued the future he was building for himself.

Selling himself for money was already fucked up. He didn’t need a drug addiction to drag him down even further.

He took another drag, disappointed that he was running low on cigarette and on time. Somewhere to his right there was a scuff of shoes and a blend of voices, building into a pair of obnoxious laughs that Akaashi tried to ignore.

It was nine o’clock on a Friday. The night was young, but some revelers didn’t wait for the midnight hour before pursuing inebriation. This part of town was spattered with a close mix of bars and clubs and entertainment venues. It wasn’t unusual for people to wander up this street, seeking enlightenment.

At least Akaashi knew these men weren’t here for him. If so, they would have used the front entrance.

The voices got closer. Akaashi kept smoking with his eyes closed, so he wouldn’t have to witness the inevitable end of his cigarette that would signal the conclusion of his unpermitted break.

There was a muted scuffle from a short distance away, a few hissed words that Akaashi couldn’t discern, and then a raised voice. “Hey!”

Akaashi pinched his cigarette more tightly between his fingers and hoped they weren’t speaking to him.

“Hey, umm, excuse me?”

The voice drew a few steps nearer. It sounded like a young male, a smooth baritone that was a shade too loud for Akaashi’s comfort. 

He gave in with a silent sigh and looked up to find a man gawking at him from a few yards away, his friend standing idly by with a look of extreme amusement.

This wasn’t a foreign situation, either. Akaashi had been taunted more than a few times in his life. He couldn’t take much offense. It was easy to make a mockery of him. In his line of work, he was practically inviting it.

“Yes?” he said curtly, wishing to end the interaction as quickly as possible.

He expected some off-color joke or a leering proposition.

Instead the man continued staring, eyes wide and bright. “Hey! What’s your name?”

Akaashi stared back at him, unimpressed.

The man shook himself and tried again. “I’m Bokuto,” he offered. “Bokuto Koutarou.”

Behind him, his friend’s grin widened. 

Akaashi blew a puff of smoke in their direction, affecting an air of disdain.

The man, Bokuto, didn’t appear bothered. He bounced once on his toes, still eager.

Akaashi understood what was going on. It was clear now, with Bokuto’s bright anticipation. He didn’t know who Akaashi was, or what he did. He thought Akaashi was just a random passerby who happened to perch on an extremely sketchy stoop.

His friend’s shit-eating grin, however, suggested he knew exactly what Akaashi was.

“Leo,” said Akaashi flatly, because Bokuto hadn’t stopped staring.

“Leo!” repeated Bokuto. “Like a lion!”

Akaashi tapped the last of the ash off of his cigarette and put it out on the concrete. “Sure.”

Bokuto looked over his shoulder and said, in what was supposed to be a whisper, “Kuroo, his name is Leo!”

The friend nodded, face suddenly solemn. As soon as Bokuto looked away, Kuroo was grinning again, eyes bright with glee.

“We’re going to the bar down the street,” said Bokuto, pointing in a vaguely northern direction. “Do you want to come with us? They have dancing and stuff. It’s going to be fun!”

Akaashi flicked the stub of his cigarette to the side. “I’m working.”

Kuroo bit his lip in an attempt to conceal his mirth. His grin was still stretched so wide that it would soon be touching his ears.

“Oh,” said Bokuto.

For a moment Akaashi thought he’d finally put the pieces together.

But then Bokuto said, words rushed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you! But maybe I could get your number? So you can go with us some other time, I mean. If you’d like to.”

Kuroo had to physically turn away, presenting Akaashi with a view of his back.

Akaashi wondered if Bokuto was really this dumb, or if it was an act.

On more than one occasion he’d been approached in a similar way by a client hoping to heighten his chances of extracurricular activities outside the workplace. Akaashi had been offered gifts and compliments and more attention than he cared to have. Some of the other workers fell for it, especially the newer ones who still clung to the notion that someday someone would find them special.

Akaashi had never been that naïve, and that wasn’t changing now.

“My time isn’t free,” said Akaashi. He hitched a thumb over his shoulder, toward the brick façade behind him. 

Bokuto tilted his head to the side, clearly confused. “Umm,” he said. “I’ll buy you a drink, if that’s what you mean.”

Behind him, Kuroo started cackling. 

Bokuto turned to look at him, still baffled.

The door behind Akaashi cracked open and Konoha popped his head out.

“Your client’s getting restless,” he said. “I’ve stalled as long as I can.” He stepped out a little further and held out a chipped mug. “I put some honey in it, for your throat.”

Akaashi accepted the offering and felt the warmth of the tea seep into his palms. “Thank you, Konoha-san.”

“Thank me by getting your ass in here.” Konoha tossed a glance at the men in the street, but quickly dismissed them as a non-threat and ducked back inside. 

Akaashi stood and took a small sip of tea. It wasn’t quite hot enough, but the burning itch in his throat was muted after the first swallow.

“Your throat?” repeated Bokuto, bemused. “Are you sick?”

Kuroo dropped a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder and said, through stifled sniggers, “Bo, please stop. You’re killing me here.”

Bokuto looked even more confused.

Akaashi pulled the door open, kicked away the brick fragment, and was almost inside before Bokuto called after him. 

“Hey, wait! So was that a no?”

Akaashi let the door thud shut.

He could still hear Kuroo’s laughter from beyond, and a muffled shout of “Shut up!” from Bokuto.

Akaashi took another sip of tea and discarded it on the counter. He slipped out of his jacket and sweatpants with practiced ease, pausing only long enough to stow them away in his assigned locker.

He shut the metal door, taking a moment to appreciate the cool texture against his fingertips. He took a deep breath, put on his mask of polite interest, and went to accept his third client of the night. 

  
  
  
  
  
By the following evening, Akaashi had forgotten all about the loud men on the street. 

He was good at forgetting things, especially things that happened while he was at work. Most were best left unremembered.

Akaashi closed his eyes, breathed, and pretended he was home, in his own bed, without the sticky sweat of a stranger dampening his back.

Someone knocked on the door, three rapid taps.

Akaashi felt a swell of relief and extracted himself from the hot limbs caged around his body, courtesy of a client whose favorite way of ending a session was cuddling.

“Your hour is up,” said Akaashi. He brushed a piece of hair out of his face and pretended not to feel the come drying in his curls. 

The man made a noise of protest and sat up, his skin still flushed from their prior activities. “There’s no way that was a whole hour.”

“Unfortunately it was, Okamoto-san,” said Akaashi, as politely as possible.

The man leaned closer. He stank of sweat and sex and stale tobacco. “At least give me a kiss goodbye, then. I had a good time with you, Leo.”

Akaashi’s impassive mask did not change. “Your hour is up.”

Okamoto gave in with a huff. He crawled off the bed and moved to fetch his clothes from the rack near the door.

Akaashi sat cross-legged on the bed, staring vaguely at the wall while his client dressed.

Just before he left the room the man turned back with a smile. “Goodbye, Leo. I’ll be back to see you soon.”

“Goodbye, Okamoto-san.”

He stepped into the hallway, and Akaashi allowed himself two minutes of solitude before he scooted off of the bed. He grabbed a fresh robe out of the basket in the corner and pulled it on before stepping out of the room.

Konoha was leaning against the wall, waiting.

“All good?” he asked, studying Akaashi.

“I’m fine.”

“Good. Your next one should be here in twenty.”

Akaashi allowed himself ten minutes to shower and seven more to sit on the back stoop with a cigarette. He fleetingly thought of the night before, when the two men had approached him, but the memory passed quickly. There was no need to think about it. He had other things to worry about, such as the identity of his next client. He should have asked Konoha. 

Most of Akaashi’s clients were regulars. They would schedule sessions once or twice a month, usually on the same night of the week, and most of the time their requests were repetitive. Takahashi always wanted to be tied down and teased until he was on the verge of tears. Tamura’s usual session included blindfolds and ice cubes. Takagi, one of Akaashi’s favorites, never requested anything more strenuous than a well-lubricated handjob. 

Akaashi didn’t mind the regulars so much. He appreciated consistency. It was when new clients came in that he started getting antsy. 

But because of the reputation he’d built for himself, successfully becoming the most requested male at Fukurodani, it was inevitable that new clients would pop up.

During those occasions he just crossed his fingers and hoped they weren’t psychotic.

When he headed back inside he expected to see Konoha hovering nearby, prepared to rush him along. No one was around. Akaashi would have gone upstairs to wait, had he known which room he’d been assigned to. Instead he crept toward the lounge.

A span of clear, six-foot windows walled in the lounge, giving passersby a clear look into Fukurodani. That was intentional. There were always a few of Akaashi’s coworkers scattered about the lounge, drinking water from crystal glasses since alcohol was not allowed on the premises. The view was meant to draw in more customers, and oftentimes it worked.

Akaashi did not spend time in the lounge. He felt he did enough without being on display like a lion in a zoo.

He glanced over at the tables as he approached. There were three women grouped at a table, wearing just enough clothing to be considered decent. Akaashi nodded at them and they waved back. He recognized them by sight, if not by name. They were newer to the job than Akaashi was. 

He took a left and started toward the front desk, intending to check the paperwork for his next appointment. As he neared, a raised voice echoed back to him, loud and on the edge of obnoxious.

“-five minutes! Come on, I’ll be quick, I swear!”

It sparked a vague familiarity in the back of Akaashi’s mind. He wondered if it was one of his previous clients. Sometimes it was difficult to forget all of the voices that moaned his name.

His escort name, anyway. None of the clients knew his real name, and none of them ever would.

Akaashi stuck his head around the corner to find the source of the commotion. Yukie was at the front desk, apparently assigned to check-in duty. Konoha stood near the door, warily watching the man who was flailing his arms in the middle of the room.

“Please!” he said, voice still too loud. “I’m not going to do anything. I just need to talk to him!”

Recognition slid into place like the press of a puzzle piece. The name rose to Akaashi’s tongue easily, and he surprised himself when he spoke. “Bokuto-san?”

The man whipped his head around, eyes widening. “Leo!” he said. He beamed, then his eyes dipped to Akaashi’s bare chest and he quickly looked away. Akaashi belatedly realized he’d forgotten to get his hoodie out of his locker. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but I wanted to talk to you. For just five minutes. If that’s okay?”

Konoha’s frown deepened. He stepped forward, probably intending to bodily remove Bokuto from the premises, but Akaashi stopped him.

“It’s fine, Konoha-san,” he said. “Five minutes.”

He wasn’t sure why he gave in. Akaashi didn’t do anything at work that he wasn’t getting paid for, and he didn’t have time for this, when his next client would arrive at any moment. 

Still, he stepped to one side of the room and Bokuto eagerly followed. It afforded only a small measure of privacy. Yukie returned to her paperwork, but Konoha watched the pair of them with hawk-like intensity.

Bokuto was fidgety. He looked from Akaashi, over his shoulder to Konoha, and then back at Akaashi again, clearly struggling to maintain eye contact. “So, uh, hey.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “Hi.”

“So, umm,” said Bokuto, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk last night. Kuroo said you probably thought I was making fun of you, and I don’t want you to think that, because I wasn’t. I didn’t know that you’re a, uh…” He trailed off and gestured vaguely toward the front of the building.

“Escort,” said Akaashi, supplying the polite-yet-inaccurate label that the Fukurodani owners preferred.

“Right, that,” said Bokuto. His eyes shifted away again. “I just wanted to apologize if you thought I was being a dick. Because I wasn’t. You just looked like a cool guy, and you’re pretty, and I thought you might want to hang out with us.” 

Bokuto’s cheeks had gone red and he raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck, self-conscious.

Akaashi couldn’t decide if Bokuto was adorable or pathetic.

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san,” he said. “You didn’t offend me. I don’t get offended.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to think-”

“Why do you even care what I think?”

Bokuto looked at him for a moment. Then he shrugged and his gaze skittered away. “I don’t know, I just… I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t hurt your feelings or anything.”

This was stupid. Of course Bokuto hadn’t hurt his feelings. Bokuto hadn’t even said anything bad. He’d just been ignorant about Akaashi’s occupation, which was actually refreshing, for a change.

Even if he’d been malicious, it wouldn’t have mattered. Akaashi couldn’t really recall the last time someone had hurt his feelings. He thought maybe he’d become immune. 

“You didn’t. Where’s your friend?”

“I didn’t tell him I was coming,” said Bokuto. He picked idly at the hem of his shirt. “He would laugh at me.” He suddenly looked up, eyes wide. “I mean, not that he does that to everyone. He wasn’t really laughing at you last night, either. I think he was mostly laughing at me.”

“Whatever you say, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He glanced over at Konoha, who made a twirling motion with his finger. “I need to go now.”

“Oh. Umm, okay.” 

Akaashi made it a single step.

“Wait!” said Bokuto. He had one hand outstretched but quickly pulled it back. His face glowed a little brighter. “I was wondering if you maybe still wanted to go hang out with us sometime? Me and Kuroo, or just me. I mean, you seem nice. And I’m cool too, I’m not a jerk, I swear!”

Akaashi stared at him and again tried to figure out if Bokuto was an idiot or if he was just painfully genuine. 

The front door opened, and there was a voice that made Akaashi bite down on a cringe.

“Yo, Leo, are you waiting for me? You eager tonight?”

Akaashi didn’t look over. “Good evening, Uchida-san.”

It could have been worse. Uchida wasn’t the worst regular that Akaashi had. His preferences included fucking Akaashi face-down, which was favorable because Akaashi didn’t have to arrange his face in a way that suggested he was enjoying himself. He could zone out completely as long as he offered some sort of verbal encouragement every minute or so.

Bokuto whipped his head around to look at Uchida. When he looked back at Akaashi there was something different in his face, a flicker of unease. 

“So, umm,” he said, his voice much quieter. It was almost a normal speaking volume now. “Do you want to, or…?”

Akaashi sighed. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san,” he said, “but I already told you. My time isn’t free.”

Uchida had approached the desk to sign in. Akaashi glanced at Konoha and said, “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

“Bye, Leo,” said Bokuto. The voice was quiet, subdued; the opposite of everything Akaashi had seen of him.

Against his better judgment, he threw one more glance over his shoulder.

Bokuto had stuffed his hands in his pockets and he was slouched slightly, as if caving in on himself. All of his restless energy was gone. 

He looked crestfallen.

Akaashi turned away and expertly prevented himself from thinking about it. He had a job to do. He couldn’t trouble himself with something as pointless as someone else’s feelings. 

If Bokuto was sad, it was his own fault. He shouldn’t have been dumb enough to come and apologize for nothing at all, and he shouldn’t have expected Akaashi to accept his invitation, especially now that he knew what Akaashi did for a living.

He was probably just like the others, trying to get on Akaashi’s good side in the hopes that he could acquire some of his services for free. That was all anyone wanted from him. No matter how cheerful and genuine Bokuto was, Akaashi couldn’t imagine he would be any different.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a little difficult for Akaashi to forget about Bokuto after he’d stopped by Fukurodani. He thought about him the following morning, when he had to pop a couple of aspirin for the aches that were left over from his session with Uchida. He thought of him again around midday, when someone broke into obnoxious laughter as he was walking down the sidewalk. He thought of him once more when he took his first smoke break at work that night.

After that, though, he didn’t think of Bokuto Koutarou again.

Akaashi was good at forgetting.

Two weeks later, near the middle of a Friday night shift, Akaashi pulled his jacket on, zipped it up to his throat, and tried to slip away to the back stoop for a cigarette.

Konoha intercepted him.

“Everything okay, Leo?” he said. He was leaning against the wall by the back door, as if waiting for Akaashi. 

“Fine.”

“It sounded like the last guy was getting pretty rough,” said Konoha. When Akaashi tried to step past him Konoha shifted, planting his back against the door. “I read his preferences. I was listening in case you used the safe word and he didn’t listen.”

“I didn’t need the safe word,” said Akaashi. “It was fine.”

“Did he tie you up?”

Akaashi’s stare was blank. “It doesn’t matter. Bondage is on my green list.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s always safe. That guy’s never been here before, I just want to make sure-”

“I said it’s fine.” He reached for the doorknob, hoping that Konoha would get the message and move.

He didn’t.

“Akaashi, please.” Konoha’s voice was low, serious. He was the only person at Fukurodani to whom Akaashi had revealed his real name. Konoha was the only person he trusted with it. “Let me see.”

Akaashi closed his eyes and tried to hold on to his fraying threads of patience. Konoha was only trying to help. Akaashi knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle. Akaashi didn’t need someone to be concerned for him. In fact, it was simpler if they weren’t. 

Akaashi wanted to tell him to fuck off, but that wasn’t fair. Konoha was the closest thing to a friend that he had at Fukurodani; or anywhere, for that matter. 

Without further argument Akaashi offered his hands, palms up.

Konoha gently pushed back Akaashi sleeves. “Jesus _fuck_ , Akaashi,” he hissed, swiveling Akaashi’s wrist with careful fingers. “What did he tie you with? Fucking barbed wire?”

Akaashi suppressed an eye roll at the dramatics. “It isn’t bad, Konoha-san. It probably won’t even bruise.”

His wrists were ringed by angry red skin, rubbed raw from the rope that had bound them together fifteen minutes before. It had chafed horribly, but Akaashi hadn’t complained. He’d had worse.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Not really,” said Akaashi. It stung a little, but it was bearable.

Konoha dropped Akaashi’s hands and sighed. “I’ll see if I can find something to put on it. Maybe we have some-”

“Don’t bother,” said Akaashi. Konoha had moved a few steps forward. Akaashi took the opportunity to move behind him and slip through the door. 

Konoha mumbled something before the door shut again, but Akaashi didn’t hear. He pulled his sleeves back down, smoked a cigarette, and began wiping the past hour from his memory.

That was how he liked to envision it. He thought of his mind like a vast chalkboard, with all his memories written in flaking white lines. All he needed to do was wipe away the ones he didn’t care to remember and they would be erased for good.

That was what he liked to think, but he knew it wasn’t that easy. Even if he could actively prevent himself from thinking of something, for days or weeks or months, he knew it was still there, somewhere. 

But as long as he didn’t think about it, he was fine.

When he went back inside it was Komi who approached him. 

“You’ve got another new client,” he said, only half looking at Akaashi. Most of his attention was on the paperwork in his hand. “Room nine. I’ll send him up in five minutes.”

Akaashi tamped down his irritation. After his last client, there was no one else on his schedule for another hour. He’d been looking forward to the down time, but he supposed this was better. He’d rather have money than a break. 

“Thank you, Komi-san,” said Akaashi. 

Komi flipped through the papers again, then handed them to Akaashi with a sigh. “Good luck, Leo. He didn’t mark any preferences, so I don’t know what the guy wants. Konoha and Washio are upstairs though, so they’ve got you if anything weird happens.”

Akaashi stared down at the pages. Whenever Fukurodani received a new client, they were required to fill out detailed paperwork that included personal information, identification, clean medical records, preferences for their sessions, and what they expected from their requested escort. They also had to sign off on paperwork that was individualized for the person whose services they were purchasing. The purpose was to confirm that they understood and agreed to abide by the escort’s “red list”, which was a compilation of things that the escort refused to do. If they broke this agreement, they were blacklisted from Fukurodani. 

Out of this paperwork, the escorts received only the client preferences. Personal identification was protected on both sides, so if the client chose not to reveal their true name, their privacy would not be compromised.

On the preference page of this new client, all of the questions had been left blank.

Akaashi flipped to the next one, on which details should have been written concerning Akaashi’s wardrobe.

That was blank, too.

Akaashi needed another cigarette.

He handed the papers back with another quiet “Thank you” before going upstairs. 

This had happened before, but it wasn’t common. Akaashi hated the sense of anxiety that bubbled in his chest. 

He was still wearing his sweatpants and his hoodie. He should have changed into something a little more appropriate, despite the lack of guidance on the preference paperwork. 

But if the client wanted Akaashi to look a certain way, they should have said so.

Konoha and Washio were in the second-floor hallway, one posted at each end. A few sessions were in progress. Akaashi heard sounds from within some of the rooms, voices raised in moans and praises and pleas. The doors were made so that sound leaked through. It was a safety precaution, so if something shady happened and the escort couldn’t reach the panic button, the bouncers could still be made aware of the situation.

Akaashi crossed to the end of the hall, where Konoha waited. “Komi said to keep an eye out for you,” he said. He looked Akaashi over, lingering on his covered wrists. “If he even looks at you the wrong way I’ll kick him out, alright? Don’t hesitate.”

“I’ll be fine, Konoha-san,” said Akaashi. He pretended to be annoyed, but this time Konoha’s concern made him feel a little more secure. “He’s probably one of the closet gays who has been married for twenty years and is too embarrassed to say what he wants because he doesn’t know. You worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry enough.”

“I don’t need to worry,” said Akaashi, “when you’re going to do it for me.”

Konoha rolled his eyes and waved Akaashi off. “Just remember what I said.”

Akaashi nodded and retreated to room nine. 

It was identical to all of the other rooms on the second floor. There was a large four-poster bed with white sheets and crimson hangings. A deep wooden chest sat at the foot of the bed, filled with equipment that Akaashi was intimately familiar with. His wrists burned when he thought about it. 

Typically these few minutes before the client was brought up to the room consisted of preparations. Akaashi would select the necessary items from the chest or study himself in the mirror to make sure his outfit met the client’s specifications.

But this time there was nothing to prepare, so he perched on the edge of the bed and waited. He unzipped his jacket and let it hang open to expose his upper body. He supposed he should at least look a little appealing. It would be embarrassing for the client to take one look at him and walk out.

It was only a minute later when he heard Konoha’s voice from the hallway.

“Remember the rules.” He was using his stern voice, the one that often unsettled the clients. “If you make your escort uncomfortable you’re out for good. Understand?”

There was a low mumble of assent. Then the door opened and Akaashi’s new client stepped inside.

For a moment they stared at each other. Then Akaashi said, quietly, “Hello, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto fidgeted in the doorway. Konoha stuck his head into the room long enough to give Akaashi a look of significance. Then he withdrew and shut the door.

“Hey hey, Leo,” said Bokuto. He smiled, but it looked wrong on his face. His eyes darted around the room anxiously, fingers twitching at his sides. 

He looked so out of place that Akaashi almost felt bad for him.

Akaashi stood, distantly aware of how sloppy he must look in his sweatpants. Bokuto didn’t seem to notice, because he didn’t seem to be capable of looking directly at Akaashi.

“You’re my new client, then,” said Akaashi. It was more of a statement than a question, but Bokuto answered anyway.

“Yeah, I, uh… I guess so.” He put his hands in his pockets, then seemed to reconsider and took them out again, fingers flexing.

Akaashi moved closer. Bokuto glanced at him briefly before looking away again. 

“Your hour started when you came through the door,” said Akaashi. “What would you like me to do for you, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto burst into flame at the question. His face burned scarlet, the blush spreading down to his neck. “Umm, I don’t really… Uh… Can we, uh… Can we maybe just talk?”

“We can do whatever you’d like, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. “Would you like to sit?”

Bokuto nodded, probably afraid he would trip over his words again. 

Akaashi considered taking him by the hand and leading him, but wasn’t sure if that was wise considering the level of Bokuto’s discomfort. Instead he returned to the bed, shifted to sit directly in the center, and patted the mattress in invitation.

Bokuto was frozen for a moment before he followed, crawling onto the bed with palpable apprehension, sitting stiff and cross-legged. 

Akaashi lounged back on his elbows, at ease. Any concerns he’d harbored about the blank preference sheet were gone. Clearly Bokuto was too nervous to have written anything at all. No matter what he requested, it definitely wasn’t going to be something that would hurt Akaashi.

He wished he could let the bouncers know so Konoha wouldn’t stress about it for the next hour. 

“What would you like to talk about?” asked Akaashi.

Bokuto shrugged. He was still having trouble making eye contact, which was interesting. He’d had no issues the last time Akaashi had seen him.

Maybe it was the impending sex that had him so on-edge.

“I don’t know,” said Bokuto. “Anything. What kind of stuff do you like?”

“They gave you my lists at the front desk,” said Akaashi, “so as long as you don’t choose something off of the red one then-”

“No,” said Bokuto quickly, “I don’t mean… like _that_. I mean what kind of stuff do you like in general? Like, what kind of movies do you like? And what’s your favorite color?”

Akaashi stared at him. He’d had clients who preferred conversation to actual contact before, but those conversations had always been explicitly sexual. 

This was a little out of Akaashi’s comfort zone.

He waited so long to respond that Bokuto snuck a glance at him, their eyes meeting for a few seconds before Bokuto looked away again. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine,” he said. “I was just wondering.”

“I don’t watch movies much,” said Akaashi. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling as he answered, and he felt Bokuto’s eyes stray back to him. “I suppose I like the suspenseful ones best, though. I don’t like the ones where there’s all action and no plot. As for my favorite color, I guess it would be green. A darker shade, like a forest green.”

He turned his head to catch Bokuto’s smile. This one was real, not like the grimace born of nerves that he’d worn when he’d stepped through the door.

“What about you, Bokuto-san?” asked Akaashi.

“I like action movies!” said Bokuto. He bounced in place a little, hands capping his knees. “Some of them are kind of suspenseful I guess, but you probably wouldn’t like most of them. My favorite color is gold. I like green too, though! Green is nice, but gold is my favorite.”

Akaashi wondered if that had anything to do with the gleaming gold of Bokuto’s eyes.

“What about hobbies?” said Bokuto. “What do you like to do when you’re… you know, not here?”

They went on like that for a while. Bokuto asked pointless, innocent questions and Akaashi answered them without giving away too much about himself. Gradually Bokuto began to relax. His smiles became wider and his eye contact became stronger.

Akaashi glanced at the clock and realized twenty minutes had already gone by.

Typically he would have kept talking and ignored the passage of time. It wasn’t his problem to monitor his client’s hour. If someone wanted to waste their time and their money, it didn’t matter to Akaashi. He got paid the same, no matter how they spent their hour.

He should have continued to entertain the conversation, but somewhere deep down in the dull press of his emotions he felt a touch of guilt. It would be easy to take advantage of Bokuto. He could get his money without giving anything in return. It would be so easy, but something about Bokuto made Akaashi reluctant to do so.

He at least deserved a blow job. Akaashi thought if he actually tried, he could probably make Bokuto come in four minutes flat.

Bokuto had calmed down significantly, but Akaashi thought he was probably still too jumpy for that.

“You look tense, Bokuto-san,” he said. He sat up straight and eyed the strong lines of Bokuto’s arms. “Let me massage your shoulders. It will make you feel better.”

Bokuto blinked at him. “Uh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

He blinked again, and then looked away. “Well, uh, sure. If you want.”

Akaashi crawled closer and sat up on his knees behind Bokuto. He curled his fingers around Bokuto’s shoulders, thumbs brushing the back of his neck, and Bokuto shivered.

“You can still talk,” said Akaashi, as he started kneading into the tense muscles. “I’m listening, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto did. The more he talked, and the more Akaashi worked his fingers, the more relaxed he became. 

Bokuto talked about his friend Kuroo, and their other friend Kenma. He asked Akaashi about his friends, and Akaashi politely said he preferred not to talk about it. He expected Bokuto to take offense, but he just started talking about something else instead, unbothered.

Bokuto had a nice voice when he wasn’t yelling. It was a smooth, and his emotions were woven into his tone. There was something genuine about him, something that Akaashi couldn’t relate to since he spent nearly all of his time pretending. 

It was somewhat refreshing.

Akaashi’s hands roamed away from Bokuto’s shoulders and slipped downward, kneading along the firm planes of his back. He was well-muscled and much broader than Akaashi. 

Bokuto relaxed into the touch. A mumbled groan fell from his lips, but it was a sound of relief. There was nothing sexual about it, and that was also something that didn’t fit into Akaashi’s script.

He worked his way back up to the wide shoulders and leaned closer, his chest pressing against Bokuto’s back. He tilted his head and pressed his lips against the side of Bokuto’s neck, gentle, soothing. 

Bokuto went rigid beneath him, the massage wasted.

Akaashi slipped his arms around Bokuto and pressed his palms against a firm chest. He dragged his lips along Bokuto’s skin and kissed his jaw. Bokuto’s hands rose, wrapping lightly around Akaashi’s chafed wrists. Akaashi exhaled a hot breath into Bokuto’s skin and licked at his earlobe. 

Bokuto pried Akaashi’s hands away and twisted out of his grip, scrambling to the other side of the bed. Akaashi sat back on his heels and stared at Bokuto, whose eyes were as wide and bright as twin moons.

“Bokuto-san?” said Akaashi. “I’m sorry, did I-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Bokuto, the words blurring together with the speed of his speech. “Don’t apologize, I just… I don’t want you to… I mean, you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do anything. I didn’t come here for… I just wanted to hang out with you. I don’t want to do… to do _that_.”

Deciphering the words was difficult enough, but trying to understand what Bokuto meant was almost impossible. Because it sounded like he was saying he didn’t want fuck Akaashi, so surely there was a misunderstanding somewhere. 

“Bokuto-san, I don’t understand.”

“Can we just, uh… just talk?” said Bokuto. His face was flushed again, and he picked at the sheets beneath his knees. 

Akaashi stared at him. Then he checked the clock, which indicated that the session was already halfway over. 

“We can talk all you’d like, Bokuto-san, but you’re going to run out of time for anything else.”

Bokuto nodded furiously. “Yeah, that’s fine. That’s good. I don’t… I don’t want anything else.”

Akaashi frowned at him. “You do understand what you’re paying me for, right?”

“Umm… yeah, you’re a… you’re an escort.”

“I’m a prostitute,” said Akaashi flatly, because maybe the word ‘escort’ wasn’t getting the point across. “I have sex for money, Bokuto-san. You’ve already paid for it, so there’s no shame in enjoying it.” 

He shuffled a little closer, but the frantic shake of Bokuto’s head made him stop.

“No, wait! That’s not… I _know_ that, I’m not stupid, but I… that’s not what I want. You said your time isn’t free. So I bought some of your time, but I don’t want it for… for _that_.”

Akaashi settled back into the center of the bed, watching Bokuto with a slight tilt of his head. “So you don’t want to fuck me?”

“No! Not that you’re not attractive, because you are, I mean just _look_ at you, but… but that’s not what I want.”

“Then what exactly do you want?”

“Can we just keep talking? Like we were before?”

In all of Akaashi’s time at Fukurodani, he’d never felt that he was taking advantage of someone. It was always the opposite way around, for obvious reasons.

But now, he felt a little like he was taking advantage of Bokuto Koutarou.

“Are you sure?” said Akaashi. “You paid for a lot more than talking. You don’t have to feel awkward about it, Bokuto-san. I’ll do anything you want.”

Bokuto shook his head again. “I just want to talk. Please, Leo?”

Akaashi opened his mouth to correct him, to tell him that Leo wasn’t his real name, then realized what he was doing. Instead he said, “Sure, Bokuto-san. Let’s talk.” He crawled toward the head of the bed and settled in against the pillows. “I think you were telling me about the university.”

Bokuto brightened a little. “Oh, yeah. The new semester just started. Some of my classes are _hard_.” He fell back against the pillows too, the movement jostling Akaashi. “This time Kuroo isn’t in any of them so I can’t copy his notes, either. I have to actually do it myself.”

“That sounds awful, Bokuto-san.”

The next half hour trickled away quickly. Bokuto lounged a safe distance away from Akaashi, content. Akaashi didn’t try to touch him again. He just listened and answered questions and wondered what Bokuto was trying to accomplish.

When exactly an hour had passed, there was the familiar triple-knock against the door. 

Bokuto looked up, startled. 

“Your hour is up,” Akaashi explained.

“Oh.” Bokuto checked the clock as if he couldn’t quite believe it. He hesitated for a moment, eyes straying toward Akaashi, before he slid off the bed. 

He moved toward the door but hovered awkwardly in the doorway. Akaashi followed a step behind.

Bokuto turned to face him, and his cheeks were warm, but not nearly as red as they’d been earlier. “Thanks for talking with me, Leo. I mean, I guess you kind of had to, but… thanks, anyway.”

“Anytime, Bokuto-san.”

“I liked it. Talking to you, I mean.”

“I liked talking to you, too.”

Bokuto grinned, and it was diamond-bright. “Really?”

The corner of Akaashi’s mouth twitched. “Yes. Really.”

“Great!” said Bokuto, his voice getting louder. “I mean, that’s good. Sometimes people say I’m annoying, so I hope I wasn’t annoying. I try not to be but sometimes I can’t help it.”

The knock came again; more insistent this time.

Bokuto startled, looking over his shoulder in a near panic. “Well, umm… I guess I’ll go. I’ll see you later, Leo. Thanks!”

“Goodbye, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto waved at him, and though his smile was now a little strained, he still looked satisfied. He stepped into the hall, and only a moment later Konoha swooped into the room, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. “You okay?”

His concern was appreciated, but utterly pointless.

“Yes, Konoha-san.”

“You said that earlier, too, and it was a lie. What did that freak do?”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “He didn’t even touch me. I’m fine.”

“Well, your definition of ‘fine’ and mine are-”

“He literally didn’t touch me,” repeated Akaashi. “He just wanted to talk. You’re worried about nothing.”

Konoha studied him, as if waiting for him to drop the punch line.

But Akaashi didn’t joke around, and Konoha knew that.

“Oh,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Akaashi shrugged. “Me either,” he said. He zipped his jacket back up and tucked his hands in the pockets. “It was strange.”

Konoha was still baffled. His face looked the way that Akaashi felt.

“Okay then,” said Konoha, shrugging it off. “You have another one in fifteen minutes. I guess you don’t have to clean up or anything though. Want to start early and get it over with?”

Fifteen minutes was enough time for three or four cigarettes if Akaashi tried hard enough. A smoke break would be nice, but it wasn’t as if he really needed one. He hadn’t exactly strained himself during the last hour.

“Sure,” said Akaashi, “I’ll take them now.”

Konoha filled him in on the next client’s preferences. It was one of Akaashi’s regulars so the setup was familiar. 

He prepared, and waited, and allowed himself to recall pieces of his conversation with Bokuto. 

Akaashi made a point to forget all of his sessions, but he might hang on to that one for a little while.


	3. Chapter 3

This time, Akaashi didn’t forget Bokuto. In fact, he thought about him several times over the next couple of weeks, replaying their encounter in room nine, trying to figure out what Bokuto’s true motive had been.

Akaashi tried to convince himself that it was all some sort of elaborate plot to take advantage of him in some way. That was what he’d learned to expect. No one was ever nice to him for no reason, except for maybe Konoha. It was unnatural, and it put him on edge.

Even so, he still found his brain replaying Bokuto’s smile, or the way his golden eyes watched with rapt attention whenever Akaashi spoke, or the way Bokuto’s fingers twitched when he was anxious.

It was stupid, and Akaashi should stop thinking about it, but he didn’t want to.

It was better than thinking about other things, such as who happened to be fucking him on any given night.

On a Saturday two weeks after The Bokuto Incident, as Akaashi referred to it in his mind, Akaashi was underneath a man who called himself Joyride.

“Because it’s a joy to ride me,” he’d told Akaashi with a leer the first time he’d booked a session.

Despite the repugnant nickname, Joyride usually preferred to be on top, which was fine with Akaashi. It meant he had to exert less effort.

The man gave a few last, sporadic thrusts before collapsing to one side of the bed, panting as if he’d just finished a marathon.

Akaashi sometimes expected Joyride to go into cardiac arrest during sex. It was clear from looking at him that he didn’t exactly visit a gym very often. Maybe someday the strain would kill him.

Joyride pointed vaguely toward his lower half, and Akaashi dutifully removed the condom. He did it with the finesse of repetition, tying it off without spilling anything from within.

“That was good,” the man panted, as Akaashi stood to throw away the condom. “Bring me my clothes.”

Akaashi did so without argument. He kept his face neutral, even when he took a too-long stride and it pulled uncomfortably. 

As usual, Joyride expected Akaashi to help him dress. He did so without complaint, even kneeling to tie the man’s shoes, unaware of his own continued nudity until he looked up and found Joyride leering down at him.

“I really wish you’d just let me take you home,” he said, voice low. “I could give you everything you ever needed. You’d just have to fuck me instead of these other pigs.”

Akaashi was deeply grateful for the triple knock on the door.

“Your hour is up,” he said neutrally, twisting the strings of Joyride’s shoe into a knot and rising. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said the man. “I’ll see you next time, Leo.”

“Goodbye, Joyride-san.”

The man smirked at the name, and Akaashi tamped down an eye roll. That would be unprofessional.

When Joyride had stepped into the hallway, Akaashi fetched a clean robe and pulled it on just as Konoha peered inside. “Yo, Leo, you good?”

Akaashi tied the robe loosely. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Your weird guy is back,” said Konoha. “He’s waiting downstairs.”

Akaashi froze for a moment. He didn’t want to assume it was Bokuto, because of course it wasn’t. Bokuto wasn’t coming back. “Which weird guy?”

“You know, the one with the hair,” said Konoha, making vague gestures toward his own head. “The one from a couple weeks ago who just wanted to talk about his feelings or whatever.”

That was definitely Bokuto.

“What does he want?”

Konoha shrugged. “I don’t know. He left the preference sheet blank again. Maybe he’ll want you to hold his hand or something.”

Akaashi knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but he didn’t share Konoha’s humor. He glanced at the clock. “How much time?”

“Yukie told him you were busy and he said he’d wait until you were finished, so… I guess there’s not a time. Whenever you’re ready for him.”

Akaashi felt a crackle of anxiety that was a little like electricity. He shook his head to banish it. This was stupid. He had sex for money; what was there to be anxious about? Bokuto couldn’t possibly request anything that he hadn’t done already.

“Give me about fifteen minutes,” said Akaashi. “I need to shower.”

Konoha gave him a strange look. “Sure. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Akaashi took a brief but thorough shower, scrubbing any possible remnants of his last client off of his skin. He didn’t want to smell like Joyride’s sweat. 

He tried to fix his hair to the best of his ability, though it was still dripping when he left the bathroom, swaddled in a fresh robe. Since there wasn’t a wardrobe preference he didn’t have a set of clothes ready. He wondered if he should wear something different. Bokuto hadn’t complained about his sweatpants, but they weren’t exactly appealing.

He settled on digging a pair of jeans out of his locker that he kept there for emergencies. They were tightly fitted and strategically hugged the curve of his thighs. They were so snug on his ass that even the straight men seeking female companionship couldn’t keep themselves from looking. 

He thought about pulling on one of his t-shirts, too, but decided against it. When Bokuto had stopped by Fukurodani the first time, he’d been distracted by Akaashi’s bare chest. Akaashi wanted to see if it would happen again.

He slipped into his boots and went to find Konoha. He was still on the second floor, again on guard duty. Akaashi ignored the falsetto moans coming from the door to his right. “Which room?”

Konoha eyed him up and down, in a very different way than his clients did. It was speculative, almost judgmental. “Nine and eleven are free. Take your pick.”

“Nine,” said Akaashi. He glanced to the other end of the hall, expecting to see Komi or Washio. It seemed Konoha was the only one on guard duty. It must have been a little slow that night. “Send him up.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Akaashi. He started toward room nine, ignoring the way Konoha was looking at him.

It was only after he’d taken a seat on the edge of the bed that he realized he’d forgotten to step outside and smoke.

Bokuto entered the room two minutes later. Akaashi kept his face impassive, but Bokuto smiled broadly when he caught sight of him. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Leo!” he said, moving into the room with more confidence than his previous visit. He was still a little twitchy, but it seemed to be a result of excitement rather than nerves.

Akaashi was almost disappointed. He’d sort of been expecting the same flustered mess that he’d gotten during their last session. This new boost of confidence meant that the talking was probably over. Bokuto had gotten comfortable. Now he wouldn’t be too shy to ask for what he wanted.

“Hello, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto strode across the room and came to a stop in front of Akaashi. His smile dimmed a little as his eyes flickered down to Akaashi’s bare chest, but he quickly dragged his gaze back up. “How’s it going?”

“I’m fine,” said Akaashi. “And you?”

“I’m great!” said Bokuto, his grin returning to full wattage. “I’m glad I get to see you tonight.”

Akaashi patted the bed beside him. “Would you like to sit down?”

There was the fidgeting that Akaashi had been waiting for. Bokuto’s fingers twitched, and he tugged absently at the hem of his jacket. “No, I, uh… I was thinking we could do something different? If you want to, I mean. We don’t have to, I just thought-”

“We can do whatever you’d like, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t disappointed. He’d expected this, after all. It was his job. He didn’t get paid for being a good conversationalist. “Where do you want me?”

Bokuto flushed crimson. “No!” he said, so loudly that Konoha probably heard down the hall. “That’s not what I mean.” 

Akaashi’s mouth twitched. “Then what do you mean, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto looked away. He pressed a hand against his own face, and Akaashi wondered if he could feel the heat radiating off of his beet-red skin. “Are you allowed to, like, leave the building? Because there’s this coffee shop across the street and I thought maybe we could go there and talk, instead of here, because honestly I feel weird being here. Not that there's anything wrong with it! It's just different, you know? There’s an ice cream shop, too, but Kuroo said ice cream was kind of childish, so we can get coffee instead. If you even want to. If you don’t it’s okay, we can stay here. I’m fine with that, too.”

His rambling ended, and Akaashi just stared at him. For the first time since he’d started working at Fukurodani, he was rendered speechless.

Was Bokuto asking him on a date? After he’d already paid a hefty sum of money to be granted access to Akaashi, he wanted to go get coffee.

Would he actually rather take Akaashi on a date than fuck him?

“It’s okay,” said Bokuto. He wilted a little beneath Akaashi’s stare. “We don’t have to. It was just a suggestion. We can just stay here and hang out like last time. I like that, too.”

He hopped onto the bed, putting enough space between them so they wouldn’t accidentally touch. He laid back and pillowed his arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. “So how was your week, Leo? Did anything exciting happen?”

Akaashi still stared at him. He couldn’t quite figure out what was going on.

“Uh, Leo?”

“You want to go get coffee?” said Akaashi, the words small.

Bokuto blinked and sat up again. “I thought maybe you’d like to. It’s okay though. It’s not a big deal, I just-”

“I’d like that,” said Akaashi. 

Bokuto _glowed_. “Really?”

He said it like he’d won something, like he was actually excited at the prospect of enjoying Akaashi’s company in a context that was completely non-sexual.

Akaashi wasn’t quite sure how to react to it.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Only I’m not allowed to leave, so we’ll have to sneak out.”

Bokuto’s eyes went wide. “Will you get in trouble?”

Akaashi thought about it. He would probably get reprimanded, but it wasn’t as if he was going to get fired. He was too valuable to Fukurodani. He made the most money out of any of their male escorts.

He thought it was worth sitting through a lecture.

“I won’t get in trouble as long as no one sees us.” He hopped of the bed and looked down at himself. “I don’t think I can go dressed like this, though, and I won’t be able to get my clothes without being noticed.”

Bokuto scrambled off of the bed. “Here, you can wear this!” He fumbled with his jacket and shrugged it off of his shoulders, offering it to Akaashi. “It’s clean. I just did laundry three days ago.”

Akaashi took it and stared down at the dark fabric in his hands. The name of Bokuto’s university was printed on the back, and beneath it, written boldly, was “Volleyball Team.”

Bokuto had mentioned his sports participation during their last session. It was made obvious by his musculature that Bokuto was physically active. It made sense that he played a sport. Akaashi assumed he was probably quite good at it.

With a small murmur of thanks, Akaashi slipped into the sleeves and zipped up the jacket. It was a little too big, and only because Bokuto was so much broader. It was just long enough to cover most of Akaashi’s ass, which was a shame when he’d gone through the trouble of squeezing into those jeans.

Bokuto looked at him a little too long before tearing his gaze away, face warm. “Are you ready to go?”

This was a bad idea, and Akaashi knew it.

Still, he found himself peering out of the room, hoping Konoha was still guarding the hallway alone. 

Luckily he was.

Akaashi slipped out, Bokuto a step behind.

Konoha was too confused by their exit to immediately say anything. When he managed to find his voice, the two of them were already nearly to the stairs.

“Leo, what the fuck are you doing?”

Akaashi waved off the concern. “We’re going to get coffee,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back before the hour is up.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Akaashi just looked at him. He was always serious.

“Ak-… Leo, come on. You can’t trust this guy!” He gestured to Bokuto, who winced. “You don’t know what he’s-”

“Konoha-san, please,” said Akaashi, ending the rant before it could begin. “I’m going. If you’d like to tell on me then feel free to do so. If not, I’ll be back in an hour and no one will know the difference. I would appreciate your discretion.”

“Jesus fuck. You’re serious.”

“I’ll be back shortly, Konoha-san.” Akaashi stepped past him and descended the stairs. Bokuto glanced nervously at Konoha before following, occasionally looking back over his shoulder to see if they were being pursued.

“Is he going to come after us?” asked Bokuto, when they reached the first floor.

Akaashi pressed a finger to his own lips, requesting silence. He led them to the back door and opened it quietly, waving Bokuto out first. He plucked the brick fragment off of the stoop and wedged it into the door so he could slip back inside later. If he had to go in through the front then he would definitely be caught. 

Akaashi tucked his hands into the pockets of Bokuto’s jacket and glanced around the street. “Which way, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto seemed to shed his apprehension like a second skin. He grinned, and pointed eastward. “It’s half a block this way.” His fingers twitched toward Akaashi, as if he wanted to reach out to him. But then he rubbed his hands together, as if to ward off the chill that was not in the air, and started walking.

A few minutes later Akaashi was seated in at an unobtrusive table in the back corner of the coffee shop, legs tucked beneath his chair, watching Bokuto from the corner of his eye as he collected their order at the counter.

He wanted to remain suspicious, at least to a small degree. It was his natural state of mind. But it was getting harder and harder to develop theories about how this was all a ploy to win Akaashi over and subsequently take advantage of him.

Against his better judgment, Akaashi was starting to believe Bokuto wasn’t capable of such subterfuge. 

Which meant that his only other motive would be that he actually just wanted to spend time with Akaashi. 

It didn’t make sense.

“Here ya go, Leo,” said Bokuto. He placed a cup on the table in front of Akaashi and then sat in the chair across from him, cradling his own cup between his palms. “I asked them if they could draw something on it like they do on TV, but they said no.” He frowned down at his own drink, but then perked up a little and added, “But they said refills are half price after ten, so if you want more just let me know! I mean, not that I wouldn’t still get it for you if it was full price. I would. I’m just… just saying.”

Akaashi took a sip of his drink. It was so hot that it nearly scalded his tongue, but that was okay. He liked his coffee the same way he liked his showers. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

“No problem!” He took a gulp out of his cup and winced when it hit his mouth. 

“Please don’t burn yourself.”

“I won’t.” Bokuto put his drink down at blew lightly on the top, trying to cool it down.

“Bokuto-san, is that hot chocolate?”

Bokuto paused mid-blow, lips still pursed, and looked up at Akaashi sheepishly. “Yeah, I, uh… I don’t really like coffee. And coach says I’m not allowed to drink caffeine anymore.”

Akaashi had a few guesses as to why Bokuto had been given that restriction. He sipped at his drink again and asked, “Did you tell your friend Kuroo you were coming to see me?”

“Well I didn’t tell him, exactly,” said Bokuto. He drummed his fingers against the side of his cup. “He just kind of knew. I don’t even know how. He’s so smart it’s creepy sometimes.”

“Didn’t he try to talk you out of it?”

Bokuto looked away, one hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. “The first time he told me it probably wasn’t a good idea. Well, what he actually said was, ‘don’t be an idiot, Bo’. But he’s a nice guy,” he said, gaze swooping back to Akaashi. “He’s my best friend. He’s just trying to look out for me, I guess. And I told him I was coming again tonight because I knew he’d figure it out anyway and he said coffee was better than ice cream. Although he said I should just stay home instead.”

Akaashi didn’t feel any bitterness toward Kuroo. He hadn’t been wrong. It wasn’t in Bokuto’s best interest to hang around Fukurodani. 

“Maybe he was right,” said Akaashi quietly.

Bokuto’s eyes sharpened. “What do you mean?”

Akaashi shrugged. “I know how much you paid for an hour of my time. It seems like a waste.”

“It’s not a waste!” said Bokuto. He must have realized he was being too loud, because he dropped his voice as he continued. “Spending time with you isn’t a waste. I like talking to you. You’re, uh… I mean, I like hanging out with you, okay?”

This time Akaashi was the one who looked away, gaze dipping to the surface of his drink. “Okay, Bokuto-san.”

They talked for a while, and the conversation came easily. Bokuto told Akaashi about an upcoming game that his team had been training for, and complained about his classes, and laughed about something Kuroo had done a few days before. 

Akaashi didn’t even have to feign interest. Everything Bokuto said was captivating. It was the way he said it, with that charm and openness and unrelenting optimism. 

He asked Akaashi questions, and Akaashi answered some of them. He told Bokuto that he went jogging every morning (“Me too!”), and that he’d grown up on the outskirts of Tokyo, and that he’d worked at Fukurodani for almost two years.

“Two years?” said Bokuto, his eyes wide. “How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“So you started working there when you were eighteen?”

“Yes.”

Bokuto’s expression was a little distant. “What was that like?” he said, hesitantly.

“Uncomfortable at first,” said Akaashi. He was surprised he was even answering the question. He’d deflected several that were more appropriate than this. “But I got used to it quickly. It’s good money, and…” He stopped himself before he could say too much.

“Is it worth it, though?” said Bokuto, oddly subdued. 

Akaashi looked up at him, expecting to see judgment.

Bokuto just looked open, as always.

“I’d rather not talk about this, Bokuto-san.”

“Right, sorry,” he said, instantly letting the subject drop. “Do you want more coffee?”

Akaashi glanced down at his cup and then checked the time. “No, thank you. I’ll have to go back soon.”

Bokuto scrambled for his phone and deflated when he saw how late it was. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighed and slumped over the table, resting his weight on his elbows. 

Akaashi automatically wanted to cheer him up, but stopped himself.

Maybe Bokuto was doing this on purpose. Maybe he was pouting because he _wanted_ Akaashi to cheer him up. Maybe this entire outing was a web of manipulation that Akaashi had completely fallen into. Maybe Bokuto wasn’t what he seemed at all.

Bokuto sat up and forced a smile. “Do you want something to go? You can take it back with you. They have these cute little pastry things, too.”

And maybe, for the first time in his life, Akaashi could afford not to be so paranoid.

Bokuto was the most genuine person he’d ever met. He was fairly certain Bokuto wasn’t capable of manipulating anyone or anything.

He needed to stop projecting his own insecurities. It wasn’t fair to Bokuto.

“No thank you, Bokuto-san.”

“Okay then.” He checked the time again, as if hoping he’d seen it wrong the first time. “I, uh, guess we should go.”

Bokuto returned their cups to the counter and they stepped outside, into the glow of the streetlights. There were people around, walking to and from shops, most of them probably on their way to the area’s bars and clubs. 

Akaashi hardly noticed them. It was almost impossible to notice anyone else when Bokuto was around.

“I can go myself,” said Akaashi. “You won’t be able to come back inside, anyway.” It was possible that someone at the front desk would notice that his client never left, but he doubted it. It wasn't as if Bokuto was required to check out.

“That’s okay! I’ll still walk you to the door.”

Akaashi didn’t protest. He wondered if his absence had been noticed. He didn’t think Konoha would tell, but it was possible he’d been discovered, anyway. He still didn’t think he would be fired, but he wouldn’t be let off with just a slap on the wrist, either.

He would’ve liked a cigarette, but they were tucked away in the pocket of his sweatpants, inside his locker. He was almost positive that Bokuto didn’t smoke so he didn’t bother asking.

They walked back to Fukurodani in silence. Bokuto was a warm presence at his side, and despite his dread at returning, Akaashi couldn’t be too anxious. 

When they stalled outside the door there was something heavy between them, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable.

Akaashi unzipped the jacket, but before he could slide it off of his shoulders, Bokuto said, “You can hang onto it. I don’t want you to get cold or anything.”

“It isn’t cold, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He shrugged it off and held it out to Bokuto, who accepted it reluctantly. “I can’t take it inside, anyway. It will look like I accepted a gift and I’ll get in trouble.”

“Oh.” Bokuto looked down at the jacket in his hands and then back at Akaashi. “Well, okay.”

“Thank you for the coffee,” said Akaashi. Then, more quietly, he added, “I had a nice time.”

Bokuto beamed. “Me too! Maybe next time we can go to the ice cream shop. If you want to, I mean. If you think it’s childish like Kuroo said then that’s fine, too.”

Akaashi barely heard what Bokuto said. His brain snagged on the phrase _next time_ and replayed it in a constant loop. “I like ice cream.”

“Excellent!” said Bokuto. He bounced on his toes. “I can’t wait to tell Kuroo he was wrong. We’ll definitely go then! Only, uh…” He paused, the burst of excitement gone. He studied the ground beneath his feet. “It might, umm, be a while before I can come back. I’ll definitely come back, though! But I’ll have to save up a little first. I had to borrow some from Kuroo for tonight, and rent is due next week and my savings is gone now so it might be a while before I have enough.”

Akaashi felt something warm in his chest, an emotion that he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

This was his cue to tell Bokuto goodbye and head back inside. Bokuto was a customer, no matter how strange his requests were. He was a way to make money. No matter how long it took, he would come back, and Akaashi would get paid. Money was Akaashi’s primary motivation. It was all he should care about.

But he found himself speaking, words that he should have kept to himself.

“May I see your phone, Bokuto-san?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, sure.” He handed over his cell without question or argument.

Akaashi tapped at the screen, nervousness twisting in his gut. When he handed it back he couldn’t look directly at Bokuto. “That’s my number,” he said quietly. “If you would like to go out sometime when I’m not working.”

He wasn’t looking at Bokuto, but he heard the surprised intake of breath.

“Really?” said Bokuto. “You mean, like, actually go out? Like, you _want_ to hang out with me? I thought maybe you were only being nice to me because you had to be. Because of your job.”

Akaashi chanced a glance up at him. “That isn’t true, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s smile was radiant. “Okay! Yeah, definitely! I’ll call you tomorrow! If that’s okay? Is tomorrow too soon? Because I can wait, if you want, should I-”

“Tomorrow is fine,” said Akaashi. His mouth twitched, and it took extreme effort not to smile. 

“Okay!” Bokuto looked down at his phone again, as if confirming that the contact info was still there. He did a double-take, and said, slowly, “A-kaa-shi?”

Akaashi felt a strange flutter in his chest. “You know my name isn’t really Leo,” he said. The look on Bokuto’s face suggested he had not known that. “That’s the name they gave me for work. My name is Akaashi Keiji.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto repeated, awed. “That’s a lot better. It suits you better, I mean.”

“I need to go inside,” said Akaashi. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Tomorrow,” affirmed Bokuto.

“Tomorrow,” said Akaashi. “Goodbye, Bokuto-san.”

“Bye, Akaashi!”

Akaashi gave him a parting wave and slipped back inside Fukurodani. The brick fragment hadn’t been moved, so that was a good sign. 

Konoha was leaning against the wall glaring at him, which wasn’t so good.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Konoha hissed, quietly.

Akaashi took comfort in the fact that he was trying to keep quiet. It was a good indicator that no one else had noticed his absence.

“We just went to the coffee shop,” said Akaashi. He stepped past Konoha and started toward the right wing of the building, where his cigarettes were stowed away in his locker. 

“You left the building with a stranger!” said Konoha, following closely behind him. “Anything could have happened. My job is to make sure you’re safe. How am I supposed to do that if you’re not here?”

“I was safe.”

“And thank god for that,” said Konoha. Akaashi tried to slip through the doorway but Konoha flung his arm across it, barring entry. “He could’ve done anything, and no one would’ve been there to stop him. He could’ve _raped_ you.”

Akaashi’s stare was flat. “It’s not rape if he’s paying for it, Konoha-san.”

Konoha winced. “Akaashi,” he said, the name a whisper. “Please don’t do that again.”

Akaashi sighed. He knew Konoha was just concerned. “Okay. I won’t do it again.”

Konoha’s arm dropped back to his side as he relaxed. “Thank you.”

“He won’t be back, anyway,” said Akaashi. 

“Did something happen?”

Akaashi should keep the information to himself. It could cost him his job, after all.

But he trusted Konoha. 

“He’s going to call me tomorrow,” said Akaashi. “I think he’s going to take me on a date.”

Konoha looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. “He _what_ ?”

“He likes me, I think.”

“Do I need to explain to you how awful of an idea this is?”

“No,” said Akaashi quietly. His tone drained a little of Konoha’s anger. “I already know, Konoha-san. I’m going to do it anyway.”

Konoha sighed so hard that he seemed to shrink. He reached out to grip Akaashi’s shoulder. “Please take care of yourself, Akaashi. People are dangerous.”

“I know. I don’t think he is, though.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

Akaashi let himself smile. It was bitter and burned like acid. “What can he do to me that’s any different than what happens here? The only difference is that I won’t get paid.”

Konoha winced. “Akaashi…”

“Please don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Konoha sighed. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. “Just keep me updated, alright? Let me know when you’re meeting him so if something happens I can find you.”

Akaashi felt that was unnecessary, but if it prevented Konoha from worrying then he didn’t mind. “Sure, Konoha-san. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, good. You’ve got five minutes before your next session.”

Akaashi was almost surprised by the news. While he’d been with Bokuto, he’d almost forgotten that he still had more clients before the night ended. “Give me ten. I need to smoke first.”

“Akaashi-”

“Thanks, Konoha-san.” He ducked through the doorway to go to his locker, ignoring Konoha’s incoherent grumbles.

He would have rather spent another hour with Bokuto than have to entertain another client, but he was in no position to complain. More clients meant more money. 

And life was all about money.


	4. Chapter 4

Akaashi spent most of the following day trying not to stare at his phone.

By noon he’d convinced himself that Bokuto had made a joke of him and wasn’t going to call at all.

By two o’clock he’d decided that everything Bokuto had told him was a lie, especially the part where he said he wanted to see Akaashi again.

Bokuto called at three-thirty, and Akaashi immediately forgot the entire day’s worth of doubts.

He called again the next day, and the day after that, and they made plans to have dinner on Wednesday night. Bokuto insisted that Akaashi choose where he wanted to go, and Akaashi settled on a ramen restaurant that was within walking distance for both of them. He hadn’t mentioned where he lived, but Bokuto wasn’t exactly guarded about his personal information. Akaashi knew which apartment complex he lived in, what his class schedule was, and the annoying household habits of his roommate, who happened to be his best friend Kuroo. 

Bokuto talked as much on the phone as he did in person, and his grammatically incorrect texts were long and frequent, but Akaashi didn’t mind. Bokuto had a positive outlook on life. He got excited easily, and appreciated even small, insignificant things that Akaashi wouldn’t have bothered with. 

It was the polar opposite of how Akaashi viewed life, and it was somewhat refreshing.

Before he left to meet Bokuto, Akaashi sent Konoha a cursory text informing him of his destination. He didn’t think it was necessary, but he’d promised. Konoha texted back immediately, instructing him to check in often.

Twenty minutes later Akaashi approached the ramen restaurant, hands tucked in his pockets, pretending he wasn’t experiencing a swell of nervousness that scratched beneath his skin like crickets. 

There was no need to be nervous. It was only dinner. Once it was over he could go home. He wasn’t at work, so he didn’t have any further obligation. If he was pushed for more, he could say no.

But this was Bokuto, and Akaashi couldn’t imagine that he would push.

His date was waiting outside the restaurant in the same jacket Akaashi had worn a few nights before. Bokuto was tapping away at his phone, brow creased in concentration. Akaashi sidled up to him, glancing at the screen. It looked as if Bokuto was composing a small, badly written novel.

“Hello, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto visibly startled and nearly dropped his phone, barely managing to catch it before it hit the concrete. He looked up at Akaashi in surprise that quickly gave way to one of his sunshine smiles. “Hey, Akaashi! You came!”

“Did you not expect me?”

“Well yeah, of course!” said Bokuto. “Kuroo was just saying that you might not but I told him he was wrong.”

Akaashi tried not to think too much into that. If he did, he may become bitter toward Kuroo, who he’d never even properly met. “Would you like to go inside?”

“Yeah, let’s go, I’m starving.”

Bokuto held the door open for Akaashi, and then followed him in. There was a decent sized crowd, but the line was short, so they didn’t have to wait very long. They snagged a table near the back of the restaurant, away from the bulk of the crowd. Akaashi was grateful. Large crowds were not his favorite thing.

Bokuto, however, seemed to thrive in the bustling atmosphere. Amid the noise of overlapping conversations, his voice was no longer too loud. It was just the right volume for Akaashi to hear his comments and observations and recollections. He spoke as he ate, feeling the need to say something between each bite. It was a lot of conversation, but Akaashi didn’t mind. He liked listening to Bokuto.

When his bowl was scraped clean, Bokuto pushed it to the side and leaned his elbows on the table. “So how was your day, Akaashi? What’d you do?”

Akaashi poked at the remnants of his ramen with a chopstick, swirling the noodles around the bottom of the bowl. It was a simple question. Innocent, even. Still, Akaashi felt awkward talking about himself in any capacity. It wasn’t something he made a habit of. 

Bokuto sensed his hesitation. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to. I was just wondering.”

“I had class,” said Akaashi, still watching the noodles twist beneath his chopsticks.

Bokuto’s interest peaked. “You go to school?”

Akaashi glanced up at him. Bokuto was leaning forward, eyes bright. 

“Yes,” said Akaashi. “Not at your university, though. It’s a private school.”

“What are you studying?”

Akaashi shifted beneath Bokuto’s attention. “Pre-law. I’m trying to graduate early so I can start applying for law schools soon.”

“Akaashi, that’s so cool!”

Akaashi shrugged and dropped his gaze. “If you say so, Bokuto-san.”

“You’ll make a good lawyer,” said Bokuto, settling back a little. “You seem, like, really smart.”

Akaashi felt a flash of heat across his face, burning in his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose. He lowered his head to try and hide it. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do! I can tell. You’re way smarter than me. You probably make really good grades, right?”

He was right, but Akaashi didn’t want to confirm it.

“What are you studying, Bokuto-san?” he asked instead. He had a fairly good guess based on the classes that Bokuto complained about, but he was eager to divert the conversation into different territory.

“Exercise science,” said Bokuto, taking the bait easily. “I want to be a coach or a personal trainer or something. Because I like sports and working out and stuff.”

“I can tell.”

Bokuto tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Akaashi gestured at him with a chopstick. “I can tell you work out a lot. You’re very muscular.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened, and for a moment Akaashi wondered if he’d said something wrong. Then Bokuto smiled so widely that nearly all of his teeth were on display. “Thanks, Akaashi!” he said. “I’ve been doing this new workout routine with Kuroo. I have to get up at six every morning, which sucks, but I think it’s worth it. It’s a rotating workout, so on the first day we…”

He launched into an overview of his new workout routine. Akaashi couldn’t care less about those kinds of things. He jogged a couple of kilometers every morning and called it a day. Still, it was comforting to hear Bokuto talk about something that excited him. His eyes got brighter and he gestured widely with his hands and his smile was irresistible. Akaashi could listen to him for hours.

Bokuto stopped himself about ten minutes into his spiel, blinking as if he’d just remembered where he was. “Sorry,” he said. His hands were mid-gesture and he dropped them into his lap. “I think I’m talking too much again. Sometimes I don’t realize I’m doing it and you just have to stop me.”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san.”

“I can be kind of annoying sometimes,” said Bokuto, frowning down at the table. “Sorry.”

“You’re not annoying,” said Akaashi. He didn’t know who’d convinced Bokuto of that, but he was certain that he disliked them. “I like hearing you talk.”

Bokuto peeked up at him. A piece of his hair had fallen down and was tangled in his arched eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I talk about myself too much, though,” said Bokuto, straightening out of his slump. “What about you? You said you like to go jogging in the mornings, right? What else do you like to do?”

Akaashi shrugged and finally pushed his bowl to the side. “I don’t really like to talk about myself. I’m not interesting.”

“Sure you are!” said Bokuto. “You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.”

He said it like he meant it, and Akaashi didn’t understand why. 

“I mostly just work and go to school,” said Akaashi. He scanned the restaurant to momentarily escape the intensity of Bokuto’s gaze. “I spend most of my free time studying. I don’t do much.”

“So you study a lot. I knew you were smart.”

Akaashi looked at him. Bokuto was smiling. Akaashi felt a tug at the corner of his own mouth but he pressed his lips together and suppressed it. 

They talked for a while longer. Bokuto managed to pry a little more information out of Akaashi (“I love Yakiniku too! We should go get some together sometime, Akaashi!”), while also revealing a lot more about himself (“I broke this finger during a game a couple years ago. It’s still crooked, can you see it?”). 

It was only when Bokuto’s phone buzzed with an incoming text that he realized how long they’d been there. “It’s nine already,” said Bokuto, surprised. “We’ve been here for two hours.”

“I suppose we have.”

“I guess we should probably go, huh?” said Bokuto, looking depressed by the idea. 

“We probably should. Give me your bowl. I’ll take it to the counter.”

“No, I’ve got it!” said Bokuto. He snatched up Akaashi’s before he could protest. “I’ll meet you at the door.”

Akaashi knew there was no point arguing with him, so he carefully made his way to the front of the restaurant and stepped outside. The air had cooled a little since they’d arrived. He shifted his jacket and pulled it more snugly around his neck.

Bokuto emerged a moment later and the two of them stood a few paces away from the door, a little awkwardly.

“So, uh,” said Bokuto, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the concrete. “Do you want to hang out again sometime?”

He seemed unsure of himself; shy, almost.

It was adorable.

“Of course, Bokuto-san. I’d like that.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Bokuto grinned, relieved. “Good. I thought maybe I was getting on your nerves. Kuroo and I always go out on Saturday nights. Do you want to come with us?”

He looked so eager that Akaashi had to look away before responding. “I have to work on Saturday nights.”

“Oh. Like, every single one?”

“Yes. Saturdays are the busiest.”

Bokuto frowned at the ground beneath his feet. Then he looked up, a little more hopefully, and said, “Well maybe we can pick a different day instead, when you don’t have to work. There are a lot of drink specials on Thursdays.”

Akaashi wasn’t certain what Bokuto and Kuroo did on their nights out, but he imagined it involved clubs and bars and alcohol. He wasn’t fond of any of those things, and he wasn’t sure that he even liked Kuroo.

But he did like Bokuto, so he supposed he could endure it.

“Sure, Bokuto-san,” he said. “That sounds nice.”

Bokuto beamed. “Great! Maybe next Thursday then? I’ll make sure it’s okay with Kuroo but I’m sure it’s fine. If he doesn’t want to go then it can just be us anyway.”

“That’s fine.”

Bokuto shifted from foot to foot and glanced up and down the street. They lived in opposite directions from here. This is where they would have to part ways.

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

Akaashi expected to hear the inevitable implication behind the question that would turn it into something sexual, but it sounded innocent, as if Bokuto really just wanted to walk with him.

“No, thank you,” said Akaashi. He watched Bokuto for any signs of disappointment. 

Bokuto frowned, but he shrugged off the refusal easily. “Well okay, if you’re sure. I just don’t want you to have to walk by yourself.”

“I always walk by myself. I’ll be fine.”

Bokuto stretched up on his toes, hands tucked in his pockets. He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple times, then said, “So, uh. I guess I’ll go then.”

“I’ll see you later, Bokuto-san.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

Bokuto stopped bouncing. He removed his hands from his pockets and glanced at Akaashi out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

Bokuto was a blur of motion, and before Akaashi realized what he was doing, Bokuto had pulled him into a hug. His arms were firm around Akaashi’s back, and Akaashi found that his chin sat perfectly on Bokuto’s shoulder. 

Before Akaashi could react, Bokuto had released him and was heading in the opposite direction. “Bye, Akaashi!” he said, waving so widely that he almost slapped a man walking along the sidewalk. “I’ll talk to you soon!”

Akaashi raised a hand, and then Bokuto turned the corner and was gone.

He turned on his heel and started walking, his steps automatically following the path to his apartment. It was lucky that he’d taken this route so many times, because his mind wasn’t focused on where he was going.

He pulled the collar of his jacket up a little more to hide his smile.

  
  
  
  
  
Bokuto texted Akaashi daily, and it wasn’t just a cursory “What’s up” or “How’s it going”. 

The text that Akaashi woke up to the next day, sent at about four a.m., said “ _tlked to kuroo. were on for next thrsday_!!!”

Akaashi smiled fondly at his phone and dressed for his morning jog.

On Friday Bokuto texted about his classes and asked Akaashi how his were going.

On Saturday, Bokuto asked if Akaashi’s work had gone okay the night before. He’d worded it carefully, not directly alluding to the duties and responsibilities of Akaashi’s job, which was appreciated.

On Sunday Bokuto texted about the antics of his team practice from the day before. Akaashi received five texts of a badly written narrative before Bokuto gave up and just called him.

Akaashi was ridiculously pleased to hear his voice.

The entire situation was pathetic, and Akaashi knew it. It was stupid to miss someone who he’d only met a handful of times. Every time his phone buzzed, Akaashi experienced a thrill of anticipation. 

He needed to stop.

But it was difficult when Bokuto was so endearing, even via text.

Despite Akaashi’s aversion to clubs, he found himself looking forward to Thursday. 

When the day rolled around and he’d arrived home from his last class, he found himself standing in front of his closet, at a complete loss. 

Akaashi was not a very social individual. He did not go out with friends, he did not drink, and he certainly did not go to the type of clubs at which he’d agreed to meet Bokuto. He didn’t know what people even wore to those kinds of places. He supposed jeans were the best option, but he was concerned that it would be too casual. Maybe Bokuto would dress more nicely and be embarrassed of him.

Against his better judgment, Akaashi pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. He gazed into the depths of his closet, awaiting and dreading the response. Hopefully it would just be a quick return text with the information he needed.

But his phone started ringing in his hand, and he wasn’t particularly surprised.

He thumbed at the screen, and before he even offered a greeting there was a sharp voice in his ear.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Konoha sounded exasperated. “And if you’re not kidding, _please_ tell me you’re not going with that weird guy.”

Akaashi closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s not weird, Konoha-san. His name is Bokuto.”

“I don’t care what his name is. You’ve got to be joking.”

Akaashi had only asked what the typical dress code was like at local clubs. He would have appreciated a simple response, but he supposed that would have been too easy. He didn’t want to ask Konoha, but he was Akaashi’s only option. He certainly wasn’t going to ask Bokuto and have him think Akaashi was worried about something so pointless.

“I thought maybe you’d gotten him out of your system after you went to dinner last week,” said Konoha, powering through the silence. “You haven’t mentioned him again. Jesus fuck, Akaashi, what are you even thinking? He’s a freak. He _paid for you_.”

“He paid for my time,” said Akaashi. “Not for sex.”

“Well it was only a matter of time! But at least that way you would’ve gotten something out of it. Now he’s going to get it for free and then he’s going to-” 

“Konoha-san,” said Akaashi, his voice sharper than he’d intended. Konoha’s rant drifted off. “Please don’t talk about him like that. He’s a nice person.”

“You barely even know him, Akaashi.”

“And you know him even less than I do, so I believe my opinion of him is more valid.”

There was a pause. Konoha was clearly at a loss.

“If you could just answer my question,” said Akaashi, more calmly, “I would greatly appreciate it.”

There was a burst of warm static as Konoha sighed into the phone. “It depends. What kind of vibe are you going for?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going for cute yet seductive or are you trying to be sex on legs?”

“Konoha-san, I don’t really understand the question.”

Konoha sighed again. “Are you planning to end up in his bed when the night is over?”

Akaashi balked at the question. He didn’t feel comfortable discussing it, but he supposed that was stupid. It wasn’t as if Konoha hadn’t personally witnessed Akaashi in extremely compromising situations. “Not particularly. It isn’t my intention, but I suppose if he really wants-”

“Stop,” said Konoha. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence. If you don’t want to go home with him then don’t. And if he tries to push you into it then you call me and I’ll fucking take care of him.”

The set of Akaashi’s mouth softened with fondness. “I don’t think he’s going to push me into anything. He isn’t like that.”

“They’re never like that, at first,” said Konoha. “Men are filthy creatures, Akaashi.”

Akaashi pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to hide his smile, though there was no one around to see it. “Thank you for the sage advice, Konoha-sensei.”

Konoha snorted into the phone. “Just wear some nice jeans and a button-up. If you have a black one wear it, you look good in black. Oh, and unless you want every living, breathing human being in that club to hit on you, for god’s sake don’t wear those _fuck me_ jeans you put on last week. Even I can’t stop staring at your ass in those.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I haven’t stared at someone’s ass that hard since the first time I saw Yukie.”

“I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment.”

“Don’t you dare tell her.” He sounded halfway serious, but there was the twist of a smile lingering beneath his tone. “I know she’s my soulmate, but I’m still waiting for her to figure that out on her own.”

“She might figure it out more quickly if you actually have a conversation with her, Konoha-san.”

“Shut up, Akaashi. As if you’ve ever gone out of your way to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve also never thought someone was my soulmate.”

“Yeah, well, maybe creepy guy will be your one true love,” said Konoha. His eye roll was practically audible. “You know, if he doesn’t kidnap you and keep you in a basement.”

“He lives on the sixth floor. He doesn’t have a basement.”

“That wasn’t my point. I just meant that- Hey, how do you know that? Have you been to his apartment? _Akaashi_?”

“No, Konoha-san,” said Akaashi with a sigh. He cradled the phone between his face and his shoulder and started digging through his clothes. He unearthed a pair of jeans that didn’t fit so tightly that they were like a second skin, but were still snug enough to accentuate his legs. “He mentioned it when he was telling a story about his roommate. Something about trying to serve a volleyball into the sixth-floor window. It didn’t work.”

There was a significant pause before Konoha said, “Is this guy an idiot?”

“No,” Akaashi said instantly. “He isn’t.”

“If you say so. But seriously, are you sure you feel okay about going out with him alone?”

“We won’t be alone. His friend is going.”

“That doesn’t make it any better. I’ll come if you need me to.”

“Aren’t you working tonight?”

“Well yeah, but this is a little more important.”

Akaashi closed his eyes and tried not to think too hard about the warm buzz of affection he felt for Konoha. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I’m not worried about Bokuto.”

“Okay then. But really, call me if you need anything. And text me when you get home. To your home, not his home. Don’t you dare go back to his place just because he wants you to. Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I’m a prostitute, Konoha-san.”

“It doesn’t _matter_.” The words were so sharp that Akaashi winced. “That doesn’t make your feelings matter any less. If you don’t want to do something then don’t do it. He’ll respect that or I’ll beat his ass. Don’t let him take advantage of you.”

Akaashi bit his lip. He was still looking into his closet but had suddenly forgotten what he was supposed to be looking for. “Thank you, Konoha-san,” he said quietly. He swallowed and tried to shake away the strange swirl of feelings that had come with Konoha’s advice. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’d better be fine. Seriously though, text me later, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Good. Talk to you later, Akaashi.”

“Goodbye, Konoha-san.”

Akaashi ended the call and stared at his phone, wondering exactly when he and Konoha had grown from acquaintances to friends. He hadn’t even noticed it was happening, but he was grateful. Konoha was a good person. Akaashi was pleased to call him a friend.

He picked out his clothes, choosing black as Konoha had suggested, and then checked the time.

He still had two hours left before he was supposed to meet Bokuto.

With a sigh, he settled in to wait.

It was going to be a long two hours.


	5. Chapter 5

The club was called Nekoma. Akaashi had never been inside, but he’d walked past it several times. It wasn’t very far from Fukurodani, and only a fifteen-minute walk from his apartment.

He’d made plans to meet Bokuto at eight-thirty. He arrived five minutes early and lingered out front, uncertain if he should wait or go inside. The sound of upbeat music pulsed out of the club and Akaashi swore he could smell the waft of alcohol all the way from the sidewalk.

He checked his phone but there was nothing aside from Bokuto’s text of an hour before, confirming that Akaashi was still going. Akaashi considered calling him but was worried that he would seem too clingy.

He was saved the trouble when a loud voice announced, “Hey, hey, Akaashi!”

Akaashi turned, his momentary anxiety being blown away on the wind.

Bokuto approached with a spring in his step, his smile lighting the street more brightly than the lamps overhead. Kuroo trailed behind him with his hands in his pockets and a smug look on his face. They both wore jeans, which relaxed Akaashi even more.

“Hello, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto stopped in front of him, still grinning. “I’m glad you came!” he said. “This is my friend Kuroo.”

Akaashi vaguely remembered the mussed hair and the lean frame from the first time he’d met Bokuto. The way Kuroo eyed him was unnerving, but Akaashi maintained his mask of politeness and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo slung an arm around Bokuto’s neck and grinned down at Akaashi. “Same. Bo talks about you a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean a _lot_.”

Bokuto shoved him off, looking a little flustered. “Shut up, Kuroo.”

Kuroo tried to hook an arm around him again, and Bokuto jabbed him in the ribs so hard that Kuroo wheezed. Akaashi looked between them, bemused.

“Just ignore him,” said Bokuto. He planted a hand in the middle of Kuroo’s chest and shoved him back a step. Kuroo was still grinning. “Are you ready to go in?”

“Whenever you are, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto bounded toward the door, where a bouncer was on standby. Akaashi waited for Kuroo to follow, but Kuroo waved him forward first, that smug look still on his face. There was something lurking behind it that Akaashi didn’t quite like, something _sharp_. 

Akaashi moved toward the door, very conscious of Kuroo walking two steps behind him.

Bokuto had struck up a conversation with the bouncer, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke. “-should’ve seen it, Kai! He hit the floor so hard I’m surprised he still has his teeth!”

“If you’re talking about last week’s incident,” said Kuroo, “don’t.”

“C’mon, it was hilarious. Oh, Akaashi, I don’t think I told you! So during practice last week, Kuroo was-”

“Alright, alright,” said Kuroo, shoving Bokuto toward the door. “Story time is over. Let’s get some shots.”

Bokuto pumped a fist in the air with a loud _whoo!_ that was vaguely reminiscent of a hoot. 

They ducked inside without flashing their IDs. Akaashi glanced at the bouncer uncertainly.

“Go ahead,” he said, waving Akaashi forward. “Good luck keeping up with them.”

Akaashi mumbled his thanks and stepped inside.

It looked exactly as he’d expected. Tables consumed about half of the floor, a long bar stretched across the wall, and a cluster of people gathered at the far end, dancing along to the music blaring through the club. 

It was more well-lit than he’d imagined, though. He’d always pictured clubs as dim and shady, based on pop culture representation. There were lights along the edge of the bar, pseudo-chandeliers dangling at several points from the ceiling, and bright bulbs clustered in each corner. 

It also appeared to be a good deal cleaner than he’d anticipated.

If only there were about fifty fewer people he may have even felt comfortable. 

“Let’s get a table first,” said Kuroo, reigning Bokuto in before he could dash to the bar. “Before it gets too crowded.”

Akaashi fidgeted at the idea that the place was going to get even _more_ crowded, but bit his tongue and followed along as they made their way to a table. At least they chose one near the edge. Akaashi was able to sit with his back facing the wall, the entirety of the club within view.

“I’ll get the drinks,” Bokuto offered. He hadn’t bothered to sit down. “You want the usual, Kuroo?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What about you, Akaashi?” said Bokuto. “I’ll get anything you want, on me!”

“That’s okay, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. “I don’t drink.”

Bokuto blinked at him. “Like, at all?”

Akaashi felt Kuroo looking at him and pretended not to notice. “No, not at all.”

“Oh.” Bokuto was sidetracked for only a moment before saying, “They have non-alcoholic stuff, too! They can make, like, a daiquiri without alcohol, I think. Or I can just get you a coke or something.”

Akaashi tried not to look uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want anything.”

Bokuto’s brows pulled together. “Are you sure?”

Akaashi nodded, but Kuroo spoke up for him.

“Ask them for bottled water,” said Kuroo. “Something pre-packaged.”

Bokuto seemed puzzled, but Kuroo gave Akaashi a knowing look. 

“That… would be fine,” said Akaashi slowly.

Bokuto shrugged off his confusion. “Okay then,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He started toward the bar, and Akaashi became very aware that he and Kuroo were alone. When he looked up, Kuroo’s stare was intense.

“Don’t drink, huh?” said Kuroo, eyeing Akaashi from across the table. 

“No.”

Kuroo tilted his head. “Have you actually been drugged before or is it just precautionary?”

Akaashi twisted his fingers together in his lap. Kuroo was too perceptive. He didn’t like it. “Does it matter?”

Kuroo leaned his elbows on the table, still studying Akaashi like he was an interesting science experiment. “You know Bo likes you, right?”

Akaashi’s eyes skated away to find Bokuto, who was waiting as the bartender prepared his order. The question itself could have been construed as innocent, but he didn’t appreciate the tone in which Kuroo spoke. “I guess?”

Kuroo’s mouth curved into a grin. “You guess? I think he’s made it pretty clear.”

Akaashi looked back at him. “What’s your point?”

Kuroo considered him. “My point,” he said at length, the words heavy, “is that Bo is a good friend. He’s a good person, too. He only sees the best in people. My _point_ is that it would be really easy to take advantage of him.”

Heat crackled under Akaashi’s skin, burning along the bridge of his nose and spanning across his cheeks. He realized it was anger. “You think I’m taking advantage of him,” he said flatly, the emotion not bleeding through his voice.

“I didn’t say that,” said Kuroo, though his raised brow was suggestive. “I’m just telling you that Bo is my best friend and I’ve got his back. So if I suspected that someone was trying to take advantage of him, I’d take care of it.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“No,” agreed Kuroo easily, “but I know _about_ you.”

Akaashi didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but he had a general idea that it had something to do with Akaashi’s occupation. 

His face burned even hotter, but any further conversation was interrupted by Bokuto’s return.

He carried a pair of shots in one hand, twin cups of beer in the other, and there was a bottle of water tucked in the crook of his elbow. “I’m back!” he announced. He carefully slid the drinks onto the table before plopping down beside Akaashi and handing him the water. Akaashi accepted it with a nod and hoped Bokuto remained oblivious to the tense atmosphere.

Bokuto didn’t seem to notice. He pushed a shot toward Kuroo, picked up the other one, and then paused with the glass pressed against his lower lip. He glanced sideways at Akaashi and said, “Oh, uh… Is it okay if I drink even though you’re not? I didn’t think about it.”

“Of course, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He rolled the water bottle between his palms and pretended Kuroo wasn’t staring at him. “I don’t mind.”

Bokuto grinned and then tipped the shot back with a wince.

Akaashi sipped at his water while Kuroo and Bokuto steadily drank through their supply of alcohol. He was concerned that conversation would be awkward, but Kuroo said nothing else even remotely impolite. He asked Akaashi about his classes; apparently Bokuto had informed him that Akaashi was studying for law school. He also pressed for details about Akaashi and Bokuto’s dinner date the week before. He did it with a good-natured grin, but Akaashi thought he detected a spark of something less amicable in Kuroo’s eyes.

Maybe it was his imagination, because of the conversation they’d had before.

Or maybe Kuroo just didn’t like him.

Akaashi couldn’t blame him, really. No one wanted their best friend to date a prostitute. 

Kuroo went to the bar for beer refills, and Akaashi breathed a little easier once he and Bokuto were alone. He had gotten used to the thrum of music and could hear Bokuto clearly when he leaned a little closer to talk.

“You didn’t say you don’t drink,” said Bokuto. He was frowning a little. “You should’ve told me. We could’ve gone somewhere else.”

“I really don’t mind,” said Akaashi. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I wanted you to have a good time too,” said Bokuto. His lower lip poked out a little, like he was on the verge of pouting. 

“I am having a good time,” said Akaashi. It was mostly true. He enjoyed being near Bokuto in general, although he may have enjoyed it more in a different setting, without the third member of their party.

“You don’t really look like it,” said Bokuto. His head dropped a little, gaze fixed on the table.

Akaashi stared at him. “Bokuto-san, you can’t judge my feelings from my face. It doesn’t change much, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Bokuto peered up at him. “I like your face.”

“Thank you. I like your face too, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto perked up out of his slump and beamed. “Thanks, Akaashi!”

Bokuto’s smile was like the sun. Akaashi had to look away fairly quickly because he felt if he stared for too long the brilliance would blind him.

“Do you want to maybe go somewhere else after this round?” said Bokuto. “Somewhere you’d like better?”

Akaashi watched him for any indication of disappointment, but Bokuto didn’t seem bothered by the idea of leaving the club.

“If that’s what you want to do,” said Akaashi. “We could go get ice cream.”

Bokuto lit up like a Christmas tree.

“That sounds great, Akaashi!” he said. He sat a little taller in his seat, scanning the crowd. “Kuroo should be back in a minute, maybe he’ll want to go, too!”

Akaashi tried to remain neutral, although he wasn’t exactly eager to spend more time with Kuroo. Kuroo had been giving him those sharp, speculative looks all night. Akaashi was tired of trying to interpret them.

“There he is,” said Bokuto, pointing across the bar. “He’s got our drinks, he should be… wait… he just gave my drink to that girl!”

Akaashi tried to follow Bokuto’s line of sight, but couldn’t see from that angle. “What’s he doing?”

Bokuto groaned. “He’s wearing his cheesy flirting smile. Gross.”

Akaashi strained to see. He caught a glimpse of Kuroo’s wild hair beside a shorter, tamer head of dark curls. The girl had her face tilted up, laughing at something Kuroo had said.

The drink in her hand was what Kuroo had promised to fetch for Bokuto.

“Traitor,” Bokuto mumbled. He dragged his glare away, and it softened when he looked at Akaashi. “Well, we’ve probably lost him for the night. You want to go?”

Akaashi tried to hold back his relief. “Sure, Bokuto-san.”

“Okay! I’ll go tell Kuroo we’re leaving. I’ll meet you outside?”

Akaashi agreed, and they parted ways into the thick of the crowd. 

More people had poured in since they’d arrived, and the small dancing area was now overcrowded. Akaashi slipped through the press of people with relative grace, dodging elbows and drinks and clumsy missteps. 

He was almost to the door when he heard his name, carried on a familiar bass rumble. 

He’d become so used to the name that it took a second for him to realize it wasn’t his real one. By the time he remembered, it was too late to pretend he hadn’t heard.

“Leo!”

Akaashi caught a glimpse of a familiar face moving toward him, awash with surprised recognition. 

Akaashi’s heart rate kicked up a notch in silent dread. He swallowed, kept his face neutral, and paused as the man approached.

It was Fujiwara, one of his regulars. Considering the circumstances, it was one of the best clients that he could have accidentally ran into. Fujiwara was always polite and respectful. He seemed to be a decent man.

“Good evening, Fujiwara-san,” said Akaashi. He kept his attention on Fujiwara as well as he could while his eyes were still darting around in search of Bokuto.

“It’s good to see you out,” said Fujiwara with a smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Akaashi had expected the question, but it didn’t make it any less awkward. “No, thank you, Fujiwara-san. I’m on my way out.”

“Oh.” The man didn’t look too wounded by the denial. “Okay then, Leo. I guess I’ll see you next week.”

“Of course. I look forward to it.”

Fujiwara offered him a wave of farewell, which Akaashi returned with lesser enthusiasm.

He started toward the door again and caught sight of Bokuto standing near the exit, waiting, his eyes fixed on Fujiwara’s retreating back.

There was a cold flicker in Akaashi’s chest. He approached Bokuto, who didn’t speak until they’d started walking down the street.

“So, uh,” said Bokuto after a heavy silence. “I don’t want to be nosy or anything, but did I hear that guy call you Leo?”

Akaashi stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yes.”

He felt Bokuto looking at him, but couldn’t bring himself to look back. He didn’t want to see the judgment or the disgust.

Bokuto knew what Akaashi did for a living, but it was easy to forget until something like this happened.

“So I guess you know him from work?”

“Yes.”

Bokuto’s fingers fidgeted. Akaashi caught the movement from the corner of his eye. “Is it… I mean, if you wanted to stay and talk to him, it’s-”

“Bokuto-san, please stop,” said Akaashi. “He’s a client. He pays me for sex. That’s it. If it makes you uncomfortable I can just go.”

“No, no, no!” said Bokuto, the denials blurring together. “That’s not it! Please don’t go, Akaashi. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad. I don’t want you to feel obligated to be nice because you feel sorry for me.”

Bokuto stopped walking. He blinked at Akaashi, eyes wide. “I’m being nice because I like you.”

Akaashi studied Bokuto’s face. “You like me,” he repeated. It didn’t sound like a question.

“Yeah,” answered Bokuto. “I think you’re cool, Akaashi. You’re really smart and really pretty and you don’t make fun of me or say I’m an idiot or anything.”

Akaashi just stared at him. “You’re not an idiot, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto grinned. “And that’s why I like you.”

Akaashi wasn’t sure what types of friends or dates Bokuto was used to, but clearly he deserved much better. Bokuto was excitable, perhaps to an excessive degree, and much of the time it seemed that his emotions bounced around like they were in a pinball machine, but Akaashi had seen nothing about Bokuto that indicated any level of idiocy.

“Let’s get ice cream, then.”

“Okay!” said Bokuto. He started walking again. His gait was steady, unhindered by the few alcoholic drinks he’d consumed. 

Akaashi was relieved that Bokuto hadn’t become inebriated. He wasn’t fond of drunk people. They were impulsive and unpredictable. That was the reason alcohol was banned at Fukurodani, for both the escorts and the clients.

“Hey, Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

Akaashi looked over at him, more surprised by the question than the entirety of the prior conversation. Bokuto was watching the sidewalk, fingers fidgeting at his sides. He looked as if he expected to be denied.

Akaashi almost smiled. “Of course, Bokuto-san.” He took Bokuto’s twitching hand and laced their fingers together.

Bokuto looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

He spent the rest of the walk chattering on about volleyball, making sure to tell Akaashi the embarrassing story about Kuroo’s accident at practice. Occasionally he would look at their linked hands and his smile would stretch a little wider.

When they reached the ice cream shop Bokuto seemed uncertain if he should release Akaashi’s hand. Akaashi squeezed his fingers once, kept his grip, and led him into the shop.

They sat near the windows and watched the street beyond. Bokuto managed to keep up the conversation, even through his unnecessarily large bowl of ice cream. Akaashi had only gotten a single scoop, and Bokuto had insisted on paying, despite his protests.

Akaashi sat with his elbows on the table, chin propped in the palm of his hand. He was half-watching the late night crowd on the sidewalk, which consisted mostly of college kids. Mostly, though, his attention was on Bokuto, who was scraping the bottom of his bowl for any last sugary remnants.

There was a smear of ice cream at the corner of his mouth. Akaashi couldn’t help but think about licking it away.

That would probably be a bit too far, though. When he’d tried something suggestive on his first night with Bokuto, in room nine at Fukurodani, Bokuto hadn’t reacted well. It may have just been the environment, but it may have been something else, too. Akaashi didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

He compromised by reaching up and wiping away the smudge with his thumb. 

Bokuto stopped talking to stare at him. 

“What were you saying, Bokuto-san?”

“I, uh.” He didn’t look like he was even trying to remember. “I don’t know.”

Bokuto’s phone buzzed on the table and he snatched at it, relieved to have a distraction. 

“It’s Kuroo,” he announced. He smiled until he finished reading the message. Then his face became pained. “He’s taking that girl home with him. Ugh.” He slouched over onto the table. “They’re going to be _loud_.”

Akaashi considered him quietly. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He thought about what Konoha had said, about being careful. Konoha wasn’t wrong. If it was anyone else, Akaashi would have been too suspicious to even offer.

But Bokuto wasn’t anyone else. Bokuto was different.

“You can stay over at my place,” said Akaashi. “If you want.”

Bokuto sat up straight, eyes wide. “What?”

Akaashi looked away. “It’s quiet at my place. You could actually get some sleep. You don’t have to, though. It isn’t a big deal.”

“I…” Bokuto cut himself off, frowning, and tried again. “Are you sure you’re okay with that? I don’t want to just barge in.”

“You aren’t barging. I offered.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

Bokuto considered the offer with more concern than Akaashi had expected. At length he said, “Yeah, sure. If that’s really okay with you.”

Akaashi nodded. “Of course, Bokuto-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow Kuroo always ends up being kind of a dick in my stories. I still haven't figured out why. I swear I love him.
> 
> Coming up next week: A night spent with Bokuto and a dangerous situation at Fukurodani.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Sensitive Content Warning** : I don’t want to add a rape tag because this isn’t that kind of fic, but there is a non-con incident near the end of this chapter that occurs during one of Akaashi’s sessions with a client. It begins as a consensual encounter, but when Akaashi becomes uncomfortable and asks the client to stop, he refuses. There are some other issues, but I’ve added tags for those. You’ll be able to tell when it’s coming, so if it makes you uncomfortable just stop reading and hit me up so I can give you a brief summary of what happens afterward.

Having someone else inside his apartment was strange.

Having someone like Bokuto Koutarou, who looked as if he belonged in a world entirely separate from Akaashi’s dim apartment, was even stranger.

“This is where Akaashi lives,” whispered Bokuto. He was talking to himself, but Akaashi heard him quite clearly. The apartment had high walls; sounds carried well.

“Make yourself at home,” said Akaashi. He slipped out of his jacket and hung it by the door. Bokuto mimicked him, hanging his volleyball jacket over top of Akaashi’s. 

Akaashi liked the way it looked there, like it belonged.

“Do you need to shower or anything?” said Akaashi.

“I cleaned up before I met you at the bar,” said Bokuto, “so I’m good. I mean, unless I stink or something.” He said it as an afterthought, but still glanced to Akaashi.

“You smell fine, Bokuto-san. I may have some clothes for you to sleep in.”

He started toward the bedroom door on the right, and Bokuto followed a step behind.

Akaashi tried not to think too hard about the fact that he and Bokuto were about to be alone in his room. He doubted anything was going to happen. Bokuto hadn’t been eager to take advantage of Akaashi at Fukurodani, after all. 

But maybe he’d just been uncomfortable in that room. Maybe now that they were somewhere more private he would jump at the chance.

Akaashi wondered if he should try to politely turn him down or just give in. It wouldn’t be so bad, really. He performed sex for a living. Doing it once for free wouldn’t kill him.

Besides, unless Bokuto was successfully concealing a sizable chunk of his personality, Akaashi didn’t think he would be too rough. Bokuto might actually be gentle with him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

By the time Akaashi was sifting through his dresser, searching for his most presentable pair of sweatpants, he’d decided that he wouldn’t resist when Bokuto made his advance. It would be easier to just go along with him. It would be fine.

He pointedly ignored the shadow of Konoha's voice echoing in the back of his skull, reprimanding him for thinking that way.

“These should fit,” said Akaashi. He tossed the sweatpants to Bokuto, who was taking in the sight of Akaashi’s bedroom in awe. Bokuto caught them easily, although he was looking the other direction. “My shirts may be a little small on you. You’re broader than I am.”

“That’s okay,” said Bokuto brightly. He pinched at his button-up. “I’m wearing a t-shirt under this.” He held Akaashi’s sweatpants close against his chest and said, “Can I change in your bathroom?”

Akaashi hadn’t been expecting that question, but he pointed Bokuto in the right direction. “Take your time.”

While he was gone, Akaashi stripped out of his own clothes. He redressed in sweatpants that were much more well-worn than the ones he’d given Bokuto and was just pulling a t-shirt over his head when his guest popped back into the room.

“These are comfy, ‘Kaashi,” he said. 

“I’m glad you approve.” Akaashi pulled the collar over his head and adjusted the shirt to cover his stomach. He didn’t fail to notice the way Bokuto’s eyes flickered down to the bare skin for a fleeting second. 

“It isn’t that late. Would you like to sleep now,” said Akaashi, “or do something else?” 

He felt Bokuto watching him as he knelt to gather his discarded clothes from the floor. “What kind of something else?”

Akaashi tossed the clothing into his laundry hamper and shrugged. “Whatever you’d like to do.”

Akaashi braced himself for the inevitable. He told himself it was fine. He’d practically just offered an invitation, anyway. 

He wondered if Bokuto would kiss him first, or just take him.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” said Bokuto.

Akaashi’s eyebrows rose. “A movie?”

“I mean, we don’t have to,” Bokuto backtracked. “It was just a suggestion.”

“That would be fine,” said Akaashi slowly. “I don’t have a television, but we can plug in my laptop and find something to watch, if you’d like.”

Bokuto bounced once on the balls of his bare feet. “Okay!”

That was how Akaashi found himself sitting bare centimeters away from Bokuto on his too-small couch. His laptop was perched on the coffee table, playing a loud action movie that Bokuto had chosen.

Bokuto leaned forward slightly as he watched. He looked exceptionally intent on the movie, considering he’d told Akaashi he’d seen it about four times already.

Akaashi was sort of watching it, but he was mostly watching Bokuto.

“I love this part!” said Bokuto, pointing at the screen. “Check it out, Akaashi!”

“Very exciting, Bokuto-san,” he said, not bothering to glance at the television.

Bokuto grinned without looking over at him.

He seemed content with the current arrangement. He hadn’t even touched Akaashi since the movie had started.

Akaashi didn’t understand. 

He thought about initiating something. Maybe Bokuto was just shy. 

But each time he considered it, he thought of Bokuto’s adverse reaction to his advances and feared the same thing would happen again.

Maybe Akaashi was reading this all wrong. Bokuto liked him, but maybe it was strictly platonic. Maybe he only wanted to be friends.

They’d held hands, but that didn’t mean Bokuto was interested in him. Children held hands when they crossed the street. It was an innocent gesture. 

“Hey, Akaashi?”

Akaashi blinked and realized Bokuto was looking at him. “Yes?”

“Can I hold your hand again?”

“Of course, Bokuto-san. You don’t really need to ask.”

“I don’t want to be rude.”

“Holding my hand isn’t rude.”

“Okay then.”

Their fingers were loosely twisted together for the remainder of the movie. Akaashi kept waiting for Bokuto to lean in closer, to try and start something more.

But nothing happened, and when the movie ended, Bokuto grinned at him tiredly.

“Is it okay if I go to sleep now? I have class tomorrow.”

“Of course. You can sleep in my bed. If you need extra blankets let me know.”

Bokuto looked almost offended. “No way, ‘Kaashi! I’m sleeping on the couch. It’s your bed, you should sleep in it.”

“You’re a guest, Bokuto-san.”

“And as a guest I have the right to choose where I sleep. And I choose the couch.”

“You’re too tall for the couch. You’ll be uncomfortable.”

“I’m only a little taller than you!”

“You’ll still be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be fine,” Bokuto insisted. “C’mon, Akaashi. I’m fine right here, I swear. If you make me go in your bedroom I’m just going to sleep on the floor. Then I’ll be even more uncomfortable.”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes, looking for a hint of a bluff.

Bokuto seemed completely serious, and Akaashi believed him.

“Fine,” he huffed. “Don’t complain when you wake up sore.”

“I won’t!” said Bokuto with his signature grin. “Thanks for letting me stay over, Akaashi! You’re the best.”

Akaashi wasn’t sure how true that was, but it was a nice sentiment all the same.

They said their goodnights and Akaashi retreated to his room, alone. He stared at the ceiling for a long while. He almost expected Bokuto to slip into the room and crawl in next to him, but he never did.

Akaashi had been so certain that Bokuto would want to have sex. He’d said he thought Akaashi was pretty. Didn’t that mean he wanted him?

Had Akaashi done something to quell Bokuto’s attraction toward him? Was he going to leave in the morning and never speak to Akaashi again? Had he only agreed to stay over because he thought Akaashi would be disappointed if he declined?

At first glance Bokuto seemed to be a fairly simple individual, but Akaashi didn’t understand him at all.

He went to sleep, eventually, but it was fitful. He felt Bokuto’s presence like an unquenchable itch beneath his skin, despite the room of distance between them.

He should have offered to share the bed with Bokuto, instead of making him sleep separately.

It would have been nice to have a warm body in his bed. 

  
  
  
  
  
In the morning, Akaashi woke up earlier than usual. He automatically changed into his jogging clothes, but reconsidered when he thought about Bokuto, who was probably still sleeping on his couch. He didn’t want to go off and leave him. Bokuto might rob the apartment while he was gone.

Or, worse, he might wake up and think Akaashi didn’t want to see him.

Akaashi hadn’t slacked off of his running routine in a month. He supposed skipping one day wouldn’t kill him.

He changed back into his comfortable clothes and peeked into the living room.

Bokuto was, indeed, asleep. One of his legs dangled over the arm of the couch, compensating for his height. The other leg had fallen onto the floor. His mouth was open, and as Akaashi crept closer, he heard quiet snores buzzing from Bokuto’s throat. 

Akaashi wondered if he should wake him. It would probably be the best decision. Bokuto had said he had class this morning and Akaashi didn’t know what time it started. He didn’t want Bokuto to miss it because he’d allowed him to sleep in.

Still, Bokuto looked so peaceful that Akaashi hated to disturb him.

Instead he retreated to the bathroom, turned on the exhaust fan, and lit a cigarette.

Akaashi wasn’t supposed to smoke in the apartment, but he’d been there for two years and hadn’t been caught. He figured it was probably safe.

He sat on the closed toilet seat, elbows resting on his knees, and sucked in a slow drag of smoke. He hadn’t realized he was jittery until the nicotine calmed his nerves. It must have been Bokuto’s presence in general that made him antsy. He wasn’t used to having someone at his apartment. In fact, he could only recall one time that he’d invited someone over. About a month before, Akaashi’s computer had broken. Konoha had stopped by with his own laptop for Akaashi to borrow until he got his fixed. 

Akaashi dropped the stub of the cigarette into the toilet and flushed away the evidence. The room tasted a little smoky, but the exhaust fan mostly took care of the problem.

When he emerged and peeked back into the living room, Bokuto was awake. 

He blinked blearily up at Akaashi from the couch, a sleepy smile on his face. “Morning, ‘Kaashi.”

“Good morning, Bokuto-san. I hope you slept well.”

“Yeah, I slept great.” He stifled a yawn with his hand and then threw his arms over his head to stretch. His spine crackled in several places and he winced.

Akaashi felt a stab of guilt that Bokuto had been cramped up on the couch. He should have been more convincing about Bokuto sleeping in his bed.

“What time is it?” said Bokuto. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and then looked up at Akaashi.

“About eight-thirty.”

“Oh.” Bokuto considered that. Then he brightened with a sleepy smile and said, “My class isn’t until ten. Do you want to go get breakfast together?”

Akaashi found he couldn’t turn him down.

He didn’t think he’d ever be able to turn Bokuto down.

  
  
  
  
  
Akaashi had a full schedule on Friday night, and Saturday was even worse. He didn’t get the opportunity to step outside until after his third client of the night. Luckily the man had only booked thirty minutes of Akaashi’s time. He didn’t think he could’ve made it another half hour without a break.

He plopped onto the concrete stoop with a sigh and a wince. His fingers shook a little as he lit his cigarette, but as soon as he inhaled the first long draw, the trembling became more stable. He pinched it between his lips and reached for his cellphone. Usually he left it in his locker for the expanse of the night because he knew he wouldn’t be receiving any important calls anyway. It was still likely that it was a waste of time to even check. He knew Bokuto was out with Kuroo. Of course he wouldn’t have time to check up on Akaashi.

When he tapped the screen, he saw that he had six new notifications; all of them text messages from Bokuto.

Akaashi smiled around his cigarette and swiped across the screen to read them.

_hey hey hey akaashi!_

_what time r u off work_

_kuroo says hey_

_omg check this out_

There was an attachment, a picture so dark and blurry that Akaashi couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. 

_hope ur havin a good night_

_txt me when u can_

Akaashi blew a puff of smoke between his lips and tapped a return text: 

_Sorry, I just got a break. I doubt I’ll get to leave before 1._

He put the phone down and sucked in another deep, soothing breath, trying to think about Bokuto instead of the client who was waiting for him inside. 

Only a few seconds later his phone buzzed with an incoming message.

_call me when u leave! we ordered to much food. u can hve some if u want. well still be up_

Akaashi imagined a slightly drunk Bokuto insisting that he could eat enough to feed four people. 

_Okay, Bokuto-san._

From beyond the cracked door he heard a voice ask, loudly, “Where’s Leo?” 

He flinched and quickly took a last, lingering drag before venturing back inside.

His estimate of one o’clock was a fairly good one. Technically his last appointment was at eleven, but someone had wandered in and insisted on scheduling a last-minute session for midnight. It wasn’t a client that Akaashi was familiar with, but he offered to pay an additional fee for the late scheduling, so no one was going to turn him away.

When the man entered room three and introduced himself as Kubo, Akaashi thought he seemed normal. Vanilla, even.

Akaashi was typically quite skilled at judging people.

That night his perception was extremely misguided.

The session started without incident. Kubo explained exactly what he wanted and Akaashi was more than happy to oblige. 

It wasn’t until about half past midnight, when Kubo was thrusting into Akaashi at a steady, almost gentle rhythm, that things went downhill.

Kubo pushed in deep and paused, panting over Akaashi, dark eyes raking over him with avarice.

Akaashi was used to those looks. He was unaffected.

“God, you’re fucking pretty,” said Kubo. He pressed a hand against Akaashi’s ribs and spread his fingers, feeling the flesh against his palm.

Akaashi didn’t know if he was expected to respond so he kept quiet and waited for further cues. His arms were over his head, where he’d been told to keep them. His wrists weren’t tied, though, so at least it was comfortable.

Kubo trailed his hand upward, over Akaashi’s stomach and chest, lingering on his collarbones. Then he inched up a little further and let his hand lay lightly against Akaashi’s throat.

Akaashi nearly twitched, but made himself keep still. There wasn’t even any pressure, just skin grazing skin, but there was something shining in Kubo’s eyes that he didn’t quite like.

For a moment nothing happened.

Then Kubo rubbed a thumb against the side of Akaashi’s throat and his fingers curled, barely squeezing.

Akaashi sucked in a breath but still didn’t move.

“Kubo-san,” he said, quietly. “Choking is on my red list. It isn’t allowed.”

“I know,” said Kubo absently. His hand didn’t move. “But fuck, you’re pretty.”

Akaashi swallowed. His throat bobbed against the palm of Kubo’s hand. “Please stop, Kubo-san. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

Kubo smiled a little. The expression made Akaashi’s stomach twist.

“You don’t get paid to be comfortable,” he said. His voice was polite but the words were not. “I paid extra.”

“Not for this.” Akaashi finally moved. He tried to sit up, but Kubo pushed him back down by his throat. 

“I’m not done,” said Kubo. His grip tightened. “Stay there.”

It was rare that Akaashi felt anything akin to panic while he was working. Usually his emotions consisted of dull acceptance and occasional discomfort. But as Kubo squeezed around his throat, the panic tore through him in full force.

He latched onto Kubo’s wrist and tried to pry his hand away, but the man didn’t move. Akaashi was trapped solidly beneath his weight, hips pinned against the mattress. He tried to twist away but Kubo only pressed more tightly. Akaashi struggled to inhale, managing only a thin wisp of breath.

He writhed beneath Kubo's weight, arms flailing to the sides. One of his hands found the corner of the mattress and he pulled himself toward the side of the bed, fingers scrabbling at the frame. 

There was a panic button there somewhere, hidden beneath a layer of sheets. He knew where it was, in theory, but he’d never had to use it. Usually he could just shout and one of the bouncers would come running, but now he couldn’t draw enough breath to do more than whisper.

He bucked beneath Kubo, hard, and gained another inch of reach. He felt the button against the edge of his hand and he slapped at it. His fingers grazed it but then he was yanked back toward the center of the bed, Kubo bearing down on him even more strongly.

Now there were two hands at his throat, looped completely around the column of his neck. A pair of thumbs squeezed as Kubo started thrusting again, despite the frantic scratch of Akaashi’s nails against his forearms.

Now Akaashi couldn’t breathe at all. He made a choking sound and dug into whatever flesh he could reach to try and get away, but the pressure didn’t ease. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision, around the planes of Kubo’s flushed, leering face.

He was going to die. Kubo wasn’t going to stop, and he was going to die.

He tried to breathe again, and there was nothing. A distant ringing replaced the sounds of Kubo’s rasping breaths, settling over Akaashi’s ears like static.

He couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t _breathe_.

He blinked a few times, vaguely realizing that his vision was fading.

Then the pressure was gone, and there was _air_.

Akaashi sucked in a breath and rolled to the side, clutching at his throat, coughing as oxygen burned a searing trail down to his lungs. His heart fluttered against his chest like the wings of a panicked sparrow. He curled into a ball, hands still guarding his neck, taking quick, shallow breaths. He was aware of a flurry of sounds behind him, a stab of voices, but he couldn’t move.

A minute later a hand dropped onto his shoulder.

Akaashi violently flinched away, lashing out on impulse, but then a voice seeped past his panicked haze.

“-ashi, it’s just me. Look at me. I need to know if you’re okay.”

Akaashi blinked a few times, and gradually Konoha’s face came into focus. He still had one hand at his throat but he used the other to push himself up. “Konoha-san,” he said. The words were bruised, raspy. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, although judging from the look on his face, nothing was okay. “Let me see.” 

He reached out, and Akaashi let Konoha lift his chin. He dropped his hand away from his aching throat and heard Konoha inhale sharply. 

“Fucking bastard,” he hissed. He dropped his hand and stomped around the bed. 

Akaashi turned his head to watch. Komi was in the room too; Akaashi hadn’t realized. He stood over Kubo, who was sitting against the wall, still naked. 

Kubo raised his hands and shook his head as Konoha approached. “Come on, I said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t-”

Konoha went to one knee, putting himself level with Kubo, and slammed a fist into the man’s jaw. 

Kubo’s head snapped to the side and he clutched at his face, a whimper sliding through his lips.

“I should fucking kill you,” Konoha spat, even as Komi gripped his shoulder to steady him. “It’s what you deserve, you piece of shit.”

Kubo sputtered some sort of excuse, still holding his face. 

“Get him out of here,” said Konoha, brushing off Komi’s hand. “If I have to look at him for five more seconds I’ll beat the shit out of him.” He stood and returned to the bed, where Akaashi watched the display with detached interest.

Komi dragged Kubo to his feet, paused just long enough to grab the man’s clothes from the rack beside the door, and then shoved his naked figure into the hallway.

Akaashi heard their voices, but he didn’t care to try and decipher the words.

Konoha grabbed a robe and draped it over Akaashi’s shoulders, providing a semblance of modesty. He sat on the bed and tilted Akaashi’s chin back again, leaning closer to inspect the damage.

“Jesus fuck,” he whispered, gently maneuvering Akaashi’s head to one side. “This is going to bruise like hell. It’s already getting dark.” He pressed a gentle fingertip to the side of Akaashi’s neck, but immediately pulled away when Akaashi winced.

“I guess I reached the button,” said Akaashi. His voice still sounded rough, like there was gravel in his throat.

“Yeah, thank god,” said Konoha. “If we hadn’t stopped him… _fuck_ , Akaashi. Are you okay?”

Akaashi’s heart was still about twice as fast as it should have been, probably from residual adrenaline. His neck was throbbing, his throat was dry, and there was something bubbling in his chest that wasn’t quite panic. 

He didn’t feel okay at all.

“I’m fine, Konoha-san,” he said. He pulled at the edges of the robe, tucking it over himself. “Thank you.”

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” said Konoha. “They probably need to check and make sure-”

“No,” said Akaashi. The single word was strong, despite the weakness of his voice. “I don’t need to go. I’m alright.”

“But what if-”

“It’s okay, Konoha-san. It’s not as bad as it looks. I didn’t lose consciousness. I’ll just have to find a way to hide the bruises for tomorrow night.”

Konoha looked at him like he was speaking German. “You’re not working tomorrow night, Akaashi. Not after this.”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

Konoha gestured at him dumbly, unable to find words.

Akaashi sighed. He slid off the edge of the bed and tied the robe properly. There was a split second of dizziness but it abated quickly. “I have appointments tomorrow night. I have to work. I can’t miss a night’s paycheck.”

“There are more important things than a paycheck,” said Konoha. “Like your health, for example.”

“I’m fine.” Akaashi tilted his head toward the door to make sure Kubo’s voice was no longer audible. Then he padded across the room on bare feet. “I’m going to take a shower. Please don’t worry about me, Konoha-san.”

Konoha protested, but Akaashi exited into the hallway without acknowledging him.

He pointedly avoided looking into the mirror when he went into the bathroom. He started the shower, shed his robe, and stepped under the scalding spray. 

He didn’t realize until halfway through the shower what the stifling sensation in his chest was. He’d thought it was panic, and maybe it was, to some degree. It was also a dash of fear, and a hopelessness that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long while.

When he thought about it, he felt the heat surge up his throat and burn behind his eyes. He closed them against the tears and soaked in the hot water, refusing to let himself cry. It wouldn’t help anything. It would only mean that Kubo had truly affected him, and he didn’t want to give him that power. 

Akaashi Keiji didn’t cry for anyone. He hadn’t in years, and he wasn’t going to start now.

By the time he got out of the shower, he could breathe without the burning pressure in his chest. He toweled himself dry, wiped the fog off of the mirror, and finally looked at himself.

Konoha had been right. The bruises were not pretty.

They hadn’t blossomed fully; not yet. It was only a darkness shaded over his skin, hinting at the true damage that would likely bloom an hour or two in the future. It wasn’t obvious that the prints had been made by a pair of hands, but anyone with common sense would know that’s what had caused the bruising. There was little else that could have.

Akaashi looked away, a little repulsed by himself.

He wondered, with a sense of sick reluctance, what Bokuto was going to think.


	7. Chapter 7

Konoha offered to walk Akaashi home. He was afraid that Kubo was still hanging around, possibly waiting for Akaashi to exit the building.

When Akaashi told Konoha that he wasn’t going home, Konoha looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“You’re going to that guy’s _apartment_ ?” Konoha demanded, appalled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not a big deal,” said Akaashi. He’d called Bokuto ten minutes before, receiving an eager confirmation that there was still plenty of food for Akaashi to share. “We’re friends.”

“You’ve only known him for a week! You can’t trust someone you’ve only known for a week. Especially not him. He paid for you, Akaashi. He was your _client_.”

“It wasn’t like that, Konoha-san. I’ve already told you. Please stop arguing with me. I’m going no matter what you say.”

Konoha wasn’t pleased with that response, but he stopped arguing.

Instead he insisted on walking with Akaashi to Bokuto’s apartment complex, despite Akaashi’s continuous protests.

It was about a ten minute walk. There was only a slight chill on the air but it was negated by the grayscale scarf looped around Akaashi’s neck, concealing the blooming bruises beneath. Konoha had borrowed it from Yukie, because he knew Akaashi would never ask for it himself. Akaashi was grateful. He didn’t want to have to explain the bruises to Bokuto. If he could just manage to hide them until they faded away, everything would be fine.

“It’s right here,” said Akaashi, when they were in front of the apartments. He came to a stop and slid a look at Konoha. “You can go now.”

“I’m sorry I’m _worried_ ,” snapped Konoha. “Someone needs to be, since you’re apparently not worried about yourself.”

“Kubo has been blacklisted,” said Akaashi. “I’ll never see him again. What is there to worry about?”

Konoha’s eye twitched. Akaashi expected him to raise his voice, but when Konoha spoke, he was oddly subdued. “What about the next time someone does this?” he said. “What if you can’t reach the panic button? What if he doesn’t stop until you’re _dead_ , Akaashi?”

Akaashi blinked at him, face unchanging. “This is the first time this has happened in the past two years, Konoha-san. It is very unlikely that it will happen again anytime soon.”

“So that’s good enough for you? It’s not very likely, so you’re willing to risk it?”

“What would you have me do instead? It’s part of the job.”

“Then get a different one,” said Konoha, so quietly that it was nearly a whisper.

Akaashi’s brows pulled together in surprise.

“I don’t understand why the fuck you’re even doing this,” said Konoha. “With some of the escorts I get it. But you shouldn’t be doing this, Akaashi. You’re too good for this.”

That startled a sound out of Akaashi that was almost a laugh. He shook his head. “You don’t know me as well as you think. I don’t do this for fun. I do it because I have to. Thank you for your concern, but I need to go.”

Konoha frowned at him, then his eyes strayed toward something over Akaashi’s shoulder. “Yeah, I guess you do. Your boyfriend is waiting for you.”

Akaashi whipped his head around. Bokuto had just stepped outside. He waved, his eyes flitting back and forth between Akaashi and Konoha.

“Text me in the morning,” said Konoha, “and let me know how you’re feeling. Or call me later tonight if you need anything.” He looked pointedly at Bokuto when he said it. 

“I’ll be fine, Konoha-san.”

Konoha didn’t look convinced. He turned to walk away but paused. “Think about what I said, Akaashi. Seriously.”

He tipped a nod at Bokuto and then he walked away, retracing their path. 

Akaashi approached Bokuto with his hands in his pockets. He felt a curl of warmth in his chest when Bokuto smiled at him.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi,” he said. “Your friend could’ve stayed. There’s enough for him, too.”

The way he said it was somewhat hesitant. Akaashi figured he could guess why.

“He was just walking with me,” said Akaashi. “I work with him at Fukurodani. He’s one of the bouncers.” 

“I thought he looked familiar,” said Bokuto, staring after Konoha. He chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully.

“He’s a good friend,” said Akaashi, though he hated to admit it. He added, a little more sharply, “ _Only_ a friend.”

Bokuto’s lip slid from between his teeth and he smiled again, more genuinely. 

They went up to Bokuto’s sixth-floor apartment. Akaashi expected to be at least a little anxious, but he felt nothing. He wasn’t worried about Bokuto. He didn’t even have the tiny sliver of doubt that he’d nursed when they’d met up at the club two days before. It was possible that he’d gotten more comfortable with him since then, but it was also possible that, after nearly being strangled, it was difficult to spare much worry for anything else.

He was at least confident that Bokuto wasn’t going to choke him to death. Even if he tried something else, it wouldn’t be that bad.

Bokuto nudged open the slightly cracked door and waved Akaashi inside. They kicked off their shoes and Bokuto shouted, “Akaashi’s here!”

There was a muffled response from somewhere inside the apartment.

“Want me to take your coat?” said Bokuto brightly. 

“Sure. Thank you, Bokuto-san.” He stripped it off of his shoulders and handed it over. 

“What about your scarf?” said Bokuto. “I’ll take that, too.”

Akaashi clutched at it with one hand. “I’ll keep it.”

Bokuto shrugged. “Okay then. Come on, we have so much food. We got yakiniku and some sushi and at least three different kinds of rice. When I drink I always think I’m starving.”

Akaashi followed him into the small kitchen, where Bokuto produced about a dozen takeout containers from the fridge. He flipped them all open, handed Akaashi a plate, and told him to help himself. 

Apparently the smell of Akaashi’s food reheating in the microwave made Bokuto hungry again, so when Akaashi sat down to eat, Bokuto fixed himself a plate as well.

They were about halfway through the meal when Kuroo wandered into the kitchen, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi.”

Akaashi eyed him as he chewed his yakiniku. That was a greeting that Bokuto had given him several times, but it sounded different in Kuroo’s voice.

“Nice to see you again, Kuroo-san,” said Akaashi, despite the questionable truth of the statement. 

Kuroo looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed and he smelled like cheap beer. “Same. I’m glad you came over. Bo’s been talking about you all night.”

Bokuto’s cheeks colored as he glared. “Shut up, Kuroo,” he said through a mouthful of rice. “Be nice to Akaashi or go back to your room.”

“I am being nice,” said Kuroo with a smug smile. “I’m always nice.”

Bokuto rolled his eyes but kept eating. 

“So, Akaashi,” said Kuroo. He propped a hip against the counter and folded his arms. “I hope you’re still being good to my friend here. He’s special, you know. He deserves the best.”

Bokuto wadded up a napkin and threw it at him. It bounced off his forearm and dropped to the floor. “Shut up, Kuroo. Sorry, ‘Kaashi, he’s still a little drunk.”

“Not true,” said Kuroo. “I’m as sober as a saint.”

Akaashi listened passively to the exchange and pretended Kuroo wasn’t making him uncomfortable. Judging from the difference in his demeanor, he guessed Kuroo probably was a little drunk. He had been more discreet at the club, at least.

Bokuto and Kuroo bickered for a few minutes, mostly about nonsense. Their jabs were harsh, but the tones in which they were delivered suggested they were all in good humor. 

There was a lull in the conversation and Akaashi felt Kuroo’s eyes on him again.

“It’s a little warm for scarves,” said Kuroo. “Want me to hang it up for you?”

Unease zipped through Akaashi’s veins. He tried to play it off and said, inflectionless, “No thank you, Kuroo-san. I’m fine.”

Kuroo raised a speculative eyebrow, then cut his gaze to Bokuto, who hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

“So you and Bo had a sleepover the other night, huh?” said Kuroo. There was a purr of suggestion underlying his tone. “How’d that go?”

“Kuroo, stop it,” said Bokuto. There was an edge in his voice that Akaashi had never heard. “Go back to your room if you’re going to be weird.”

“Sorry, sorry,” said Kuroo. He held his hands up in front of him, as if in surrender. “I’ll be good.”

Bokuto seemed satisfied, but Akaashi was not.

Kuroo moved out of Akaashi’s peripheral vision and disappeared behind him. Akaashi wanted to turn and track his movements but felt it would be rude to watch someone so closely in their own home. He put his chopsticks down and threaded his fingers together in his lap, trying to track Kuroo by his nearly silent footsteps.

From the way Bokuto described them, he and Kuroo were best friends. Akaashi didn’t understand how someone as unsettling as Kuroo could have such a deep bond with someone as bright and brilliant as Bokuto.

Bokuto tipped back his glass to take a gulp of water and nearly spewed it across the table. “Kuroo!” he said, too loudly. “Don’t even _think_ about-” 

It was all the warning Akaashi had, and not nearly enough.

There was a tug around his neck, and before he could snatch it back, Kuroo had whisked the scarf away.

Akaashi pressed his hands against his neck. Suddenly it was nearly as difficult for him to breathe as it had been with Kubo’s fingers wrapped around his throat. His wide eyes darted from Bokuto, who looked angry at Kuroo’s interference, to Kuroo himself, who loomed over Akaashi with a smirk.

Kuroo twisted the scarf around his hand. He grinned like he was going to say something smug, but his expression faltered at the panic in Akaashi’s eyes.

He took a step back, eyes dipping down to the skin visible between Akaashi’s desperate fingers. 

“Shit,” he said, the word dropping like a grenade into the suddenly stifling atmosphere of the kitchen.

“Kuroo, don’t be mean to Akaashi!” shouted Bokuto, oblivious. “What’s your problem?” His anger faded a little when he turned his attention to Akaashi. “I’m so sorry, ‘Kaashi. He’s usually nicer, I swear! Please don’t think… umm, Akaashi? What’s wrong with your neck?”

Akaashi swallowed, hard. His palms were suddenly clammy against his throat. He wondered if either of them would try to stop him if he just stood up and left.

Reluctantly, he let his fingers fall away from his neck. He clenched them together in his lap and stared at the table in front of him.

He wondered if the bruising had darkened since he’d left Fukurodani.

It probably had, judging from Kuroo and Bokuto’s reactions.

“Holy fuck,” said Kuroo, his voice low. All traces of smugness had vanished. “I’m sorry, Akaashi.”

“What happened?” said Bokuto. He was out of his seat and around the table before Akaashi could draw a full breath. “Are you okay? Did somebody hurt you? Can I do anything?”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. His voice didn’t shake, although he couldn’t say the same of his laced fingers. He couldn’t look at Bokuto. He didn’t want to see the expression on his face. “It isn’t a big deal.”

“It looks like a big deal!” said Bokuto. He crouched down beside Akaashi, wide golden eyes sticking to his neck. “Did somebody… did somebody _choke_ you?”

Akaashi turned his head a little to the side, away from Bokuto. He brought up a hand to cover the worst of the bruising. “Don’t worry about it, Bokuto-san.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kuroo said again. The scarf hung loose in his grip but Akaashi didn’t bother reaching for it. It didn’t matter now. “I didn’t know. I thought Bokuto had left a hickey from the other night, I didn’t think-”

“I told you nothing happened!” Bokuto shouted, his voice too loud in Akaashi’s ear.

“I know, but I didn’t believe you!”

“You’re an idiot, Kuroo!”

“Don’t worry, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He stood up, eyes still on the floor. “I’ll just go. It’s fine.”

“Go?” repeated Bokuto, his anger at Kuroo vanishing. “You don’t have to go.”

“It’s okay,” said Akaashi. He stepped past Bokuto and started toward the kitchen door. He felt his face burning and pretended it wasn’t.

Kuroo swooped in front of him and gripped the opposite side of the doorway, using his arm as a barrier. “Hang on,” he said, his voice quieter than it had been all night. “Don’t leave because of me. I’m sorry. I’ll go instead so you can stay here with Bo, alright?”

“It’s fine, Kuroo-san. I’m not leaving because of you.”

“Then why are you going?” asked Bokuto from somewhere behind him.

Akaashi turned. Bokuto looked confused and a little lost. Akaashi glanced away and rubbed absently at his neck. “I just shouldn’t stay.”

He could practically feel Bokuto’s disappointment from across the room.

Kuroo frowned as he eyed Akaashi. “I hope you don’t think we’re judging you because of this.”

Akaashi was surprised into making eye contact. Kuroo stared back, eyes narrowed slightly. 

“We’re not,” said Kuroo, when Akaashi didn’t answer. “Especially not Bo. I don’t think he’s ever judged anyone in his entire life.”

“Why would I judge Akaashi?”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _See_?

“I really am sorry,” said Kuroo again. He pressed the scarf into Akaashi’s hand, where it hung limply in his grip. “I fucked up. Don’t take it out on Bo.” He looked over Akaashi’s shoulder and added, “I’ll be in my room for the rest of the night. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Bokuto mumbled something inaudible. Kuroo slipped through the doorway and disappeared into his room. The door shut with a loud click.

Akaashi felt Bokuto hovering somewhere behind him. He still thought it would be easier to just leave.

“Are you okay, Akaashi?”

He gripped the scarf more tightly in his hand and said, “Yes, Bokuto-san.”

“Are you really, or are you just saying that?”

Akaashi opened his mouth to lie, but no words left his lips.

He heard Bokuto’s shuffling steps and then a hand brushed over his shoulder, a feather-light touch. “We can talk about it,” said Bokuto, “if you want to.”

“I really don’t,” said Akaashi. “It was a work thing. There’s not really anything to talk about.”

Bokuto sucked in a breath. “People _pay you_ to-”

“No,” said Akaashi, cutting him off before he could finish the thought. “People don’t do this. It was a one-time thing. The guy got blacklisted. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Bokuto’s fingers lightly trailed down Akaashi’s arm, grazing over his wrist and lingering on the back of his knuckles before dropping away. “But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“There is something to worry about. I’m worried about you.”

Akaashi finally looked at him. Bokuto’s eyes were wide but serious, his mouth curved downward. 

Akaashi had to immediately look away again. “Please don’t worry about me, Bokuto-san.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Do you want something else to eat?”

“No, thank you.”

Bokuto clearly wanted to keep talking, but he kept stopping himself. He was probably worried that he was being annoying.

He cleared up the takeout boxes and stowed them back in the fridge, sparing glances at Akaashi every few seconds, as if to make sure he didn’t disappear.

Akaashi remained in the doorway, unmoving.

When the kitchen was cleaned up, Bokuto said, “Do you want to sit down for a bit?”

Akaashi chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. He’d still rather just go home. It would be easier than having to deal with this.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” said Bokuto, more gently than Akaashi expected. “Not if you don’t want to. I won’t mention it again. I promise.”

Akaashi glanced at him from across the room. He looked serious.

“Okay,” he said, trying to keep the reluctance out of his voice. “I guess I can stay a little longer.”

Bokuto smiled, though it was more subdued than usual. “Great. Come on, I’ll show you my room.”

Normally Akaashi would have balked at that offer, but he followed along after Bokuto easily. 

Bokuto’s room was what Akaashi had expected. There was a twin-sized bed on one side and a small, cluttered desk on the other. A single-paned window gave a decent view of a park illuminated by streetlights. 

Bokuto straddled his desk chair and sat, propping his elbows on the back. “You can sit on the bed,” he said. “It’s more comfortable.”

Akaashi did as he said, perching on the rumpled sheets. 

“So, uh…” Bokuto twisted back and forth in the chair. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Thank you for the invitation.”

“I’m sorry about Kuroo,” said Bokuto. The words were quick, rushed. “I don’t know what his problem is. He was being kind of weird to you the other night at the bar, too, but he just kept denying it when I asked about it, and I-”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. Thinking of Kuroo left a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, but it wasn’t something for Bokuto to worry about. “Please don’t apologize.”

Bokuto picked at the back of the desk chair, eyes downcast. “How was your day?” he said. The question was forced. It was strange to hear Bokuto have to intentionally initiate a conversation. Usually words dripped out of him like a leaky faucet. “I mean, other than… than _that_.”

“It was fine,” said Akaashi. He scooted back on Bokuto’s bed and folded his legs beneath him. He tried to relax, despite the circumstances. The worry that Bokuto would suddenly decide he wanted nothing to do with Akaashi still chewed at the back of his mind, but he tried to mute it. If Bokuto didn’t want him here then he wouldn’t have asked him to stay. “I cleaned up my apartment a little this morning and bought groceries. Work wasn’t bad, overall.”

It hadn’t been, for the exception of the last incident.

“What about you, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto blinked up at him. “Oh. My day was okay. We had practice this morning and the coach said I did good. He bought lunch for us, which was cool. Then me and Kuroo went out to the bar and it was fun. This girl told me I was cute and I accidentally started laughing, so Kuroo flirted with her instead.” He smiled a little at the memory but it was frail, brittle. When he looked at Akaashi again it shattered. “I promise you don’t have to talk about it, but can I look? Please? It’s making me really nervous.”

The rapid shift in conversation left Akaashi blank for a moment. Then he realized Bokuto meant his bruises. 

He rubbed at the side of his neck lightly. The skin beneath his fingers was a little sore but the markings were much worse than the pain. “It’s really okay, Bokuto-san. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

Bokuto was unconvinced. He stared at Akaashi over the back of his chair, eyes full of concern. 

Akaashi sighed. “Yes, Bokuto-san. You can look.”

He expected Bokuto to lunge across the room, unable to contain himself now that he’d been given permission. 

Bokuto didn’t move for a moment, still watching. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Akaashi felt a little bad for underestimating him. “Yes, I’m sure.”

When Bokuto did move, it was slowly. He rose from his chair and crossed the room with measured steps, hesitating at the edge of the bed. After a moment of consideration he sat cross-legged beside Akaashi, the mattress shifting beneath his weight. He reached over to his bedside table and clicked on the lamp. 

Akaashi blinked a few times beneath the glare of the extra light, but he forgot about it quickly. It was easy when Bokuto was sitting only a few centimeters away, studying him with a slight tilt of his head.

Bokuto’s eyes dipped to Akaashi’s neck, narrowing as he studied the purpling bruises. Akaashi swallowed and tipped his head a little, exposing his throat. 

He saw motion from the corner of his eye, a blur that was Bokuto’s arm, but the movement stopped before Akaashi flinched away.

“Umm,” said Bokuto. “Can I, uh…?”

“Yes.”

The stillness lasted for a handful of breaths. They were so close that Akaashi could hear Bokuto breathe, deep and steady. It was comforting, and he found himself relaxing even as Bokuto’s fingers brushed against the side of his neck. 

Akaashi’s eyes fluttered closed, hands bunching slightly in the sheets. Bokuto traced the splotches with a light fingertip. The trail he left was blazing, but not because of pain.

“Does it hurt?” asked Bokuto. His voice was low, scraping a whisper. It was strange to hear him so quiet. It lent an element of intimacy to the atmosphere.

“No,” said Akaashi, matching his volume. “Not anymore.”

Bokuto’s fingers ventured to the other side of Akaashi’s neck and he obligingly tilted his head in that direction, granting access. The touch remained slow and delicate. It was soothing, like balm against the wounds.

Akaashi opened his eyes and found that Bokuto was a lot closer than he remembered. He’d crept a little nearer to Akaashi and he was no longer scrutinizing the bruises. His golden eyes were focused on Akaashi’s, glinting in the lamplight. His gaze flickered down to Akaashi’s lips, and his own were parted slightly. 

Akaashi was familiar with that look. He saw it every time he met with a client, but there was something different about seeing it on Bokuto’s face. It was gentle, innocent. 

Akaashi suddenly felt warm.

“Bokuto-san,” he whispered. 

Bokuto flinched. He dropped his hand and sat back, as if just realizing how close he’d gotten.

Akaashi grabbed his wrist and kept him from retreating. He leaned forward a little, reclaiming the intimate distance.

“You can,” said Akaashi, quietly. “If you want.”

Bokuto swallowed. His eyes darted to Akaashi’s mouth again. “’Kaashi,” he said. His voice was strangled. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m very comfortable with you, Bokuto-san.”

There was another moment of stillness, punctuated only by their matched breaths.

Then Bokuto raised a hand and traced his fingers along Akaashi’s cheekbone, gentle, cautious.

Akaashi leaned into the touch and blinked up at Bokuto.

Bokuto moved slowly, as if giving Akaashi a chance to pull away.

The thought didn’t even cross Akaashi’s mind.

Bokuto kissed him, a slow brush of lips, so gentle that it was barely there. Akaashi melted into it, the featherlight kiss stealing his breath.

Bokuto sat back and his eyes flickered open. “Akaashi…”

Hearing his name in that husky whisper made Akaashi shudder. He leaned forward and captured Bokuto’s mouth, pushing more pressure into the kiss, memorizing the texture of Bokuto.

There was a touch against his jaw and then long fingers threaded through his hair, not pulling, just feeling.

Akaashi pressed a hand against Bokuto’s chest, appreciating the feeling of hard muscle beneath his palm. Then he curled his hand into the front of Bokuto’s shirt and pulled him closer.

He touched his tongue against Bokuto’s lips and they parted immediately. He licked into Bokuto’s mouth and Bokuto returned the gesture, if a bit more hesitantly. Akaashi slid both hands up Bokuto’s chest, over his shoulders, and pulled himself into Bokuto’s lap. Strong arms encircled his back. The kiss didn’t falter, the slide of lips and tongue like satin.

Akaashi exhaled a sigh. This was nothing new to him, but something about it was different. It might have been because he wasn’t contractually obligated to continue. It might have been because if he’d decided to pull away, he knew Bokuto wouldn’t stop him.

Or it might have been because this was Bokuto, and Akaashi had never met anyone like him.

He felt his way back to Bokuto’s chest, hands gliding downward. Akaashi slipped his fingers beneath the hem of Bokuto’s shirt and splayed his palms against the hot, hard flesh of his stomach. 

Bokuto sucked in a breath and pulled back, the kiss breaking between them.

“‘Kaashi,” he said. His voice was rough around the edges and his eyes were a little hazy. “You don’t have to. I mean, _we_ don’t have to-”

“I know, Bokuto-san.” Some of that roughness was echoed in his own voice. “I don’t mind.”

Bokuto stared at him for a moment, entranced. 

Akaashi pushed his hands up further, scouting toward Bokuto’s chest, and suddenly Bokuto regained his awareness. He shook his head and shuffled back, carefully dislodging Akaashi from his lap.

Akaashi withdrew with a frown, his hands suddenly cold without Bokuto’s skin against them. He wanted to chase Bokuto across the bed, to pull his shirt off and touch him properly. But Bokuto looked almost wary and Akaashi didn’t move.

“Let’s stop,” said Bokuto. His eyes shifted from Akaashi down to the space between them, as if he couldn’t hold his gaze. It reminded Akaashi of the first time that Bokuto had checked in as one of his clients, when he was so nervous that he couldn’t maintain eye contact. 

“Okay,” said Akaashi. His voice was neutral, which was surprising, considering his brewing turmoil. He wondered again if there was something wrong with him, something that prevented Bokuto from wanting him. “Did I do something wrong?”

Bokuto winced like he’d been slapped. “No! No, Akaashi, of course not, never. That was… damn, that was great, and _you’re_ great, and I just… We should just stop. Before… you know.”

Akaashi knew what he meant. What he didn’t know is why that was a problem. “You don’t want to fuck?”

Bokuto grimaced. “Jesus, Akaashi, don’t… I mean, it’s not… Dammit.” He slapped his hands over his face, shielding himself from Akaashi. “Of course I do. I really, really do. But I don’t want you to think that’s all I want, you know? ‘Cause it’s not. It’s not even that important. I just want to be with you, ‘Kaashi. ‘Cause I like you, and I don’t want to like… like, take advantage of you or anything, you know?”

“Bokuto-san, stop.” Akaashi grasped one of Bokuto’s wrists and carefully pried it away. The revealed half of Bokuto’s face was bright red. “You’re not taking advantage of me. I said I don’t mind.”

“I know, but not minding and wanting to isn’t the same thing.”

Akaashi sat back and thought about that. He didn’t see much of a difference. Sex was sex, either way. 

Bokuto reclaimed his hand and again hid behind it. “We’ve only been hanging out for a week. I want you to feel comfortable with me, you know? Like, really comfortable.” He peered through his fingers, eyes dipping to Akaashi’s neck.

Akaashi did feel comfortable with him; at least, as comfortable as he could imagine feeling around another person. 

“Whatever you want, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. The words were dry as sand. 

Bokuto dropped his arms and reached out for Akaashi’s hand. “Please don’t be mad,” he said, eyes bright and earnest. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

“I’m not mad.” Akaashi looked down at Bokuto’s hand, then flipped his own so he could lace their fingers together. “You would have to try pretty hard to make me mad, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto smiled. It was a little weak, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“It’s getting late,” said Bokuto. “Do you-”

“I’ll go,” said Akaashi. He should have left after the kitchen incident, but he was glad that he’d stayed. Now he would have the taste of Bokuto’s lips to take home with him. “Sorry for keeping you up.”

“No, wait!” said Bokuto before Akaashi had even moved. “I was going to say, uh… if you want to stay here tonight, since it’s so late… I mean, you shouldn’t walk home at this time of night by yourself. If you really want to go home I’ll walk with you, but if you want to stay, that would be fine, too. And you let me stay at your place, so it’s only fair.”

Akaashi considered the offer. He thought maybe Bokuto was suggesting it only out of a sense of obligation, to repay him for the night he’d spent in Akaashi’s apartment. There was no sign of that on his face, though. Bokuto just looked eager, if a little nervous.

“I’ll stay,” he decided. “If that’s really okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay.” Bokuto beamed. He squeezed Akaashi’s hand, lightly, then extracted himself to scramble off the bed. “My comfy clothes are in here.” He yanked at a dresser drawer and indicated the clothing inside. “You can wear whatever you want. I’ll step out here so you can change, okay? I’ll be back in a few!”

He shut the door and left Akaashi alone in the bedroom.

With a fond sigh, Akaashi unfolded his legs and peered into the drawer. The contents were in disarray, wrinkled sleeves and pant legs twisted together like weeds. 

It was so very much like Bokuto.

Akaashi sifted through the clothes and settled on a pair of cotton cut-off shorts and a t-shirt emblazoned with the name of a high school volleyball team. He glanced at the door a few times as he changed, but it was out of habit only. He wasn’t worried about Bokuto barging in on him while he was half dressed.

When he was outfitted in Bokuto’s clothes, he ducked his head and pressed a handful of the shirt against his face. He inhaled and it smelled like the essence of Bokuto.

He wondered if Bokuto would notice if the shirt didn’t get returned.

There was a tap at the door: two knocks, not three like at Fukurodani.

“Can I come back in?”

“Yes.”

Bokuto edged his way back into the room. He looked at Akaashi for a beat too long, and when he dragged his eyes away his cheeks were flushed. “I’ll, umm. I’ll get some clothes and change in the bathroom. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

Bokuto was not joking.

“You are _not_ sleeping on the couch,” said Akaashi. His words were clipped. “Not after you refused to sleep in my bed the other night.”

“This is different,” said Bokuto. “You’re the guest.”

Akaashi’s mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”

Something about his expression made Bokuto crack a smile. A gentle burst of laughter wasn’t far behind. 

“I told you the same thing!” said Akaashi. He tried to sound offended but it was difficult with the sound of Bokuto’s glee in his ears. “You still took the couch!”

“I wanted you to be comfortable.”

“Well I want you to be comfortable!”

“I will be,” said Bokuto. “On the couch.”

Akaashi inhaled and tried to ignore the scent beneath his nose. That would only distract him. “Bokuto-san, please. This is ridiculous. Let’s just share the bed. That’s what we should have done at my apartment, too.”

Bokuto’s smile was replaced by uncertainty. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have said it.”

“I just don’t want you to think-”

“I don’t think anything.” Akaashi turned down the corner of the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m just tired and I would like you to join me, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto chewed on his lip, eyes fixed on Akaashi. “Okay,” he finally said. He stepped to the dresser and grabbed the first things his hand touched. “I’ll, uh… I’ll be right back, then.”

Akaashi nodded, satisfied. He crawled beneath the covers and inhaled the scent of Bokuto’s pillow. It smelled just like his t-shirt, but with a whiff of hair gel.

Bokuto didn’t waste any time. Two minutes later he was back, turning out the lights and reaching to cut off the lamp before sliding in beside Akaashi. 

The bed was big enough for the two of them, but there wasn’t much extra space. As careful as Bokuto was clearly trying to be, it was going to be nearly impossible for both of them to be comfortable without making at least a little skin contact.

After Bokuto shuffled around for a full minute, pointedly keeping as far to the edge as possible, Akaashi sighed.

“Come here.” He reached out and grabbed at Bokuto’s sleeve, tugging him closer.

Akaashi rolled onto his side and pressed his back against Bokuto’s chest. He dragged Bokuto’s arm closer until it draped over his waist. 

Bokuto was stiff against him, as if he was afraid to even breathe.

Akaashi nudged him with an elbow and said, “It’s alright, Bokuto-san. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“Akaashi, that’s not what I-!”

“I’m joking,” Akaashi mumbled. “You can hold me.” He started to say _I don’t mind_ , but then remembered what Bokuto had said before. Instead he rephrased. “I want you to.”

Bokuto relaxed a little. His arm curled around Akaashi’s side, bleeding warmth against his ribs. He curved more comfortably against Akaashi’s spine and Akaashi felt hot breath ruffle his hair. 

He pawed around for Bokuto’s hand and laced their fingers together when he found it.

“Goodnight, Bokuto-san,” he said.

Bokuto shifted just a little closer, his face nuzzling at the back of Akaashi’s neck. Akaashi felt Bokuto’s smile press against his skin. “’Night, Akaashi.”

Akaashi slept like he didn’t have a care in the world, and as long as he was wrapped up in Bokuto, he could pretend that he didn’t.


	8. Chapter 8

Akaashi had wondered if the next morning would be awkward, considering the events of the night before.

As it turned out, that worry was pointless. Waking up next to Bokuto was the most relaxing thing he’d ever experienced.

He found himself thinking he wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.

Bokuto looked pensive when he slept. The planes of his face were smooth, his arched brows tilted slightly together. Sometime during the night his hair had undergone a catastrophic level of destruction and was half-peaked, half-flattened. 

For a while Akaashi just watched him through sleepy eyes, appreciating Bokuto’s warmth. When he felt he’d stared a little too long, he peeled himself away and crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb Bokuto. He picked up his clothes and tiptoed out, intending to change in the bathroom. 

He stepped into the living room with a dull sense of anxiety, but a quick sweep revealed no sign of Kuroo. His eyes caught on something in the kitchen and he inched closer, curious.

A bag of breakfast takeout was on the table, pinned with a note that said _Sorry_. Akaashi held a hand over the bag. It was still a little warm.

Akaashi looked around again, half-expecting to see Kuroo lurking in a corner. But he was alone, and he abandoned the thought of changing in favor of carrying the bag of food into Bokuto’s room and crawling back into bed.

He maneuvered awkwardly over Bokuto, making no effort to be gentle. When he plopped down, cross-legged, Bokuto stirred and blinked up at him.

“’Kaashi?” he mumbled, the word blurred by sleep. “Time is it?”

“I don’t know,” said Akaashi. “Want breakfast in bed?”

That got Bokuto’s attention. He pushed himself up, shuffled closer to Akaashi, and they ate Kuroo’s offering in content silence.

“Did you sleep okay?” asked Bokuto, when the takeout platters had been scraped clean. “Kuroo says I snore sometimes. I hope it didn’t bother you.”

“It didn’t,” said Akaashi. “I slept well. Very well, actually.”

Bokuto smiled. He wrapped an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders and pulled him into a half-hug. Akaashi leaned with the motion easily. “Thanks for staying over,” said Bokuto.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Maybe you can do it again sometime,” said Bokuto. “If you want.”

“I’d like that, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi left a short time after that. Bokuto kissed him goodbye. It was quick and chaste, but it still made Akaashi feel warm.

He had a handful of texts from Konoha, demanding to know if he was okay. He replied affirmatively as he walked, equally annoyed and appreciative of his concern.

He spent the day thinking about Bokuto.

He had a feeling that much of his time in the near future would be spent in the same way.

  
  
  
  
Akaashi didn’t get a chance to see Bokuto that week. He was busy with classes, and by the time he was finished, Bokuto was held up in late practices for the important game that his team was playing on Friday night. They communicated daily via text, but now that Akaashi knew what Bokuto’s lips felt like, that wasn’t quite enough for him.

Bokuto suggested that Akaashi come over to his apartment on Friday after Akaashi finished work. Akaashi agreed, although he had plans to see Bokuto before that.

The volleyball game started at six. Akaashi’s shift started at eight. It was common sense that he wouldn’t be able to sit through the game and still make it to work on time, but Akaashi closed his eyes to the facts and pretended.

He arrived at the university gym fifteen minutes early and the crowd was already packed in thick. There were more people than Akaashi cared to be in the midst of, but he took deep breaths and slipped through them with as little contact as he could manage.

Luckily it wasn’t difficult for him to find a seat since he was alone. There were individual seats scattered amidst the crowd, left at odds between groups of varying sizes. If he’d been with someone it would have been impossible to find a pair of seats with a decent view.

He settled in, sandwiched between a middle-aged woman who talked as if she was the mother of one of the players and a young boy around the age of fourteen. Both of them ignored Akaashi, and he was grateful.

Akaashi wasn’t very familiar with volleyball. Most of his knowledge consisted of snippets that he’d absorbed from Bokuto’s frequent rants about his team. He did know Bokuto was the ace, which was apparently somewhat impressive. He also knew Kuroo was a middle blocker, though his only knowledge about that position came from the title itself. 

What Akaashi did know, once the game started, was that Bokuto was extremely good at volleyball.

There were other players on the court; several of them, in fact. Beyond taking a moment to pick out Kuroo, Akaashi noticed none of them. 

Bokuto was in his element. His serves were backed by grace and power, and more than once they slammed onto the other side of the court untouched. When he leapt for a spike his form was flawless, knees bent, jersey stretched taut over the muscles of his back. He scored one point after the next, and his excitement was contagious. He pumped his fist in the air and high-fived Kuroo and _whooped_ with the thrill of impending victory. 

The other team didn’t have a chance.

The game was winding down by seven-fifteen, and a victory for Bokuto’s team was imminent. They were five points away from a win and their opponents were so far behind that only a miracle could catch them up. 

Akaashi could have left then. He’d seen the better part of the game, enough of it to catalog the sight of Bokuto in action into his brain for the rest of his life. 

But that wasn’t good enough for him.

He took out his phone and sent a text to Konoha. He couldn’t call Fukurodani, not with all the background noise. They’d know he was just slacking off. If Konoha let the bosses know Akaashi was running late then he would have enough time to make up a viable excuse on his way there.

He’d never been late to work a day in his life. One time wouldn’t kill him.

Konoha replied with the expected questions and Akaashi answered him honestly. There was no reason to lie to Konoha. He’d probably guess that Akaashi’s absence had something to do with Bokuto, anyway. 

Bokuto slammed another spike into the foe’s court, and Akaashi’s mouth twitched as Bokuto cheered for himself.

He’d never met anyone like Bokuto. Akaashi wasn’t sure how someone with so much vibrance and energy and _life_ could possibly be interested in him.

It didn’t make sense, but Akaashi was grateful.

When the final point was scored – by the ace, of course – Bokuto jumped at Kuroo, who barely caught him in time to keep them both from hitting the floor.

They were laughing, their hair plastered to their foreheads with the sweat of victory. Akaashi felt a swell of contentment in his chest.

They fell in line and shook hands with the opposing team, then gathered in a cluster to speak with their coach. By then, most of the crowd had started milling toward the exits. Akaashi went against the flow, predicting by the layout of the arena where the team’s locker room was likely located.

He found it and hovered a short distance away, waiting.

When the team emerged from the court, still shouting and celebrating in the face of triumph, Akaashi thought maybe he should’ve just left, after all.

They laughed and yelled and shoved at each other like schoolchildren. It was immaturity at its finest, but they looked happy. 

Bokuto was near the middle of the pack, still talking loudly to Kuroo. He didn’t even look in Akaashi’s direction. 

Akaashi thought about calling out, but dismissed the idea quickly. He probably wouldn’t be heard over the ruckus, but also, it was possible that Bokuto wouldn’t want to see him like that, in front of his team. Akaashi wasn’t exactly a trophy, after all. 

Bokuto would have missed him completely, made oblivious to his surroundings by the thrill of victory.

Kuroo, however, proved to be a little more perceptive.

He caught sight of Akaashi from the corner of his eye. They looked at each other for a moment, Kuroo’s face unreadable. 

Kuroo turned his head, and Akaashi thought he would be ignored.

Then Kuroo seized the sleeve of Bokuto’s jersey, yanked him to a stop, and leaned close to say something in his ear.

Bokuto’s head snapped around immediately, golden eyes locking onto Akaashi. He blinked, face going blank with surprise. Then he grinned, and it was so bright that Akaashi felt his eyes burn.

“Akaashi!” he shouted, audible even over the continued shouts of his teammates. He ducked out of the group and dashed over, face alight with glee. 

“Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi at a more reasonable volume. “I-”

The words were cut short as Bokuto seized him and spun him in a quick circle, Akaashi’s toes a centimeter or two off of the ground. Akaashi stumbled back a step when he was released, balking in the face of Bokuto’s excitement. He ignored the moist feeling of Bokuto’s sweat on his skin.

“You watched my game!” Bokuto said, still at ace volume. “Akaashi came to see my game!”

“Yes, I did. You played very well, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto bounced on the balls of his feet. “Kuroo!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Akaashi watched our game!”

Kuroo gave a salute of acknowledgement, a wry grin on his face. Several of the other players gave them curious looks, but they continued on their way without comment.

“I didn’t know you were here!” said Bokuto, returning his full attention to Akaashi. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“I didn’t know if I would be able to,” said Akaashi. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up and then miss it.”

“Akaashi, you’re the best! Did you like it? I know you don’t know much about volleyball, but it was good, right? Coach said it was my best game this season!”

“It was very good, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. “I’m quite impressed.”

Bokuto’s smile was so wide that it looked painful.

“Hey, the team is going out to celebrate,” said Bokuto. He looked over his shoulder again but the others had disappeared into the locker room. “You should come too, Akaashi. I’ll introduce you to my teammates. You already know Kuroo, but the others are cool, too. It’ll be fun!”

Akaashi wanted to agree just so Bokuto would keep smiling. 

“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san,” he said, bracing himself for the disappointment. “I can’t. I have to go to work.”

Bokuto’s face fell a little, his excitement dampened. “Oh. You have to go… oh, yeah. I forgot.”

“I would go with you if I could.”

“It’s okay,” said Bokuto. He thought for a moment, then his face lit up a little again. “But you’re still coming over later, right? After?”

“If you still want me to.”

“Of course I do!” said Bokuto. “I haven’t seen you in forever. I missed you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi felt a tug somewhere in the area of his heart. “I missed you too, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto beamed. Then he glanced over his shoulder, at the door of the locker room. “I, uh… I need to go. I’ll see you soon though, okay? Like, really soon.”

“Yes. I’ll see you soon.”

Bokuto took a step away, then turned immediately back. “Akaashi, can I kiss you? I mean, I know we’re kind of in public so it might bother you, but…”

Akaashi looked around. They were in the middle of a vacant hallway. He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “I think I can endure it.”

Bokuto was on him immediately, a hot hand on Akaashi’s cheek, an even hotter mouth against his own.

Akaashi melted into it, and was a touch disappointed when Bokuto pulled away.

“I’ll see you soon,” Bokuto promised. “Really soon. Text me, okay?”

“Sure, Bokuto-san.”

With a last wave and another face-splitting smile, Bokuto ducked into the locker room.

There was a distinct wolf-whistle from within, followed by Bokuto’s shout of indignation.

Akaashi checked the time. It was almost seven forty-five and it would take him nearly half an hour to get to Fukurodani.

With a sigh he started walking, dreading the lecture he would have to endure once he arrived. 

He thought back to the game, to the sight of Bokuto’s strong spike, to the thought of Bokuto’s smile when he’d seen Akaashi waiting for him.

It didn’t matter what he would have to face once he was at work.

It had been worth it.  
  
  


  
  
  
It wasn’t one of Akaashi’s best nights on the job. 

Yamiji had sat him down and lectured him for a solid ten minutes. Apparently Akaashi’s eight o’clock client had not been happy that his appointment would be indefinitely delayed due to Akaashi’s absence. They’d paired him up with a different escort at a discounted price.

Akaashi had lost an hour of pay which, at his rate, was a significant amount of money. 

When Yamiji felt Akaashi had been properly reprimanded, he dismissed him to go and prepare for his next appointment. Akaashi went without complaint or comment.

The next few hours weren’t much better. No one else felt the need to snap at Akaashi for his irresponsibility, but they probably should have. He was not on top of his game. He couldn’t focus. His thoughts were drifting around on a volleyball court a couple of hours in the past, and he just couldn’t wrangle them into the present.

Akaashi had never had this problem. He was good at forgetting, but he just couldn’t forget Bokuto, if only for a few hours.

“Hey, Leo?”

Akaashi pulled off and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He was kneeling in the floor by the bed, between the knees of one of his regular clients.

“Yes, Uchida-san?”

Uchida frowned down at him. “Are you alright?”

Akaashi blinked up at him. He hadn’t expected the question. “Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You just seem kind of…” Uchida trailed off, as if unwilling to finish the thought. “Distracted, I guess.”

Dread rose like bile in Akaashi’s throat.

No one had ever complained about his performance at work. Not a single time.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling from numb lips. “Uchida-san, I-”

“No, no, it’s alright,” said Uchida, waving him off. “I just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

Akaashi swallowed. “Yes. Everything is fine.”

“Okay then.”

Akaashi took a deep breath, pushed the cluttered thoughts of Bokuto as far to the back of his mind as they would go, and looked up at Uchida with a renewed sense of focus. “Please allow me to make it up to you, Uchida-san.”

If Uchida’s moans were any indication, Akaashi was forgiven.

  
  
  
  
When the last client of the night left room three, Akaashi pulled on one of the white terrycloth robes with a relieved sigh. 

It wasn’t quite one o’clock. He was getting to leave at a reasonable time in comparison to many of his shifts. He should be able to get to Bokuto’s apartment before one-thirty. It seemed that Bokuto stayed up most of the night on weekends, but Akaashi still felt a little guilty about having to show up so late.

If he had a regular job, he and Bokuto could spend time together at normal hours.

But if he had a regular job he couldn’t afford to go to school and still live without starving half to death.

He stepped into the hall, the robe tied loosely. Konoha was there, waiting for the last of the escorts to finish up their sessions.

“Yo, Leo,” he said, waving him over. “You have a visitor waiting in the lobby.”

Akaashi felt himself pale. “I don’t have any more appointments,” he said. “I can’t take any more tonight, I have things to do. Is Yamiji doing this on purpose because I was late? I told him I was sorry, I don’t-”

“Woah, hey, calm down,” said Konoha, raising hand to cut him off. He was staring at Akaashi like he was something unfamiliar. “Are you alright? I’ve never seen you this high strung.”

Akaashi exhaled and felt his shoulders sag a little. They’d been so rigid that they were nearly up to his ears. “I’m fine, Konoha-san. It’s just been a rough night.”

Konoha raised a brow but didn’t pry. “It’s not a client,” he said. “It’s your boyfriend.”

Akaashi looked up and his mood flipped completely. “Bokuto?”

“Do you have another boyfriend I don’t know about?”

“What’s he doing here?”

Konoha shrugged. “Hell if I know. He just asked me to let you know he was waiting.”

“I still need to shower,” said Akaashi. He would rather Bokuto not see him with dried come in his hair. “Tell him I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m not telling him that. He’ll wait.”

Akaashi didn’t bother arguing. He stepped past Konoha and took the stairs two at a time, rushing to the showers with eagerness that bloomed like the first bright blossoms of spring.

He emerged a short time later, dressed in his sweatpants and hoodie, his hair dripping down the back of his neck. He shrugged his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the lobby, easily ignoring the other escorts that were winding down for the night.

Bokuto sat in one of the lobby chairs, looking extremely out of place. Yukie was at the front desk. She was pretending to read through a stack of paperwork, but every other second she glanced up at Bokuto.

When Akaashi entered the room Bokuto perked out of his awkward slouch.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi!”

Yukie looked between them, expression closed. 

“What are you doing here, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto stood and met Akaashi in the middle of the small lobby. “I came to walk with you, so you wouldn’t have to go all the way to my apartment by yourself. It’s late, and it’s kind of creepy, you know?”

“You came to pick me up from work,” said Akaashi. His voice was flat, but affection burned in his blood like fire.

“Well, yeah,” said Bokuto. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Is that okay?”

“Of course is it.” He reached for Bokuto’s hand, and relaxed at the slide of his fingers. “Let’s go. Goodnight, Yukie-san.”

Yukie jumped a little. “Oh, uh, bye, Leo.” She watched them closely as they left, with something akin to speculation.

Akaashi wasn’t worried. Yukie was one of his favorite female escorts. She was quiet and kind and tended to mind her own business.

If Konoha was going to fall for one of the escorts, at least he’d chosen a good one.

They stopped on the way to Bokuto’s apartment for a late dinner. Bokuto had already eaten, but he kept up a steady stream of idle chatter while Akaashi inhaled a bowl of ramen. He recounted some of the best plays of the game, despite the fact that Akaashi had been there in person to see them.

Akaashi didn’t mind. He liked to hear Bokuto’s voice, no matter what he was talking about.

When they arrived at Bokuto’s apartment, Kuroo was sprawled on the couch, a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. 

Akaashi immediately felt uneasy. 

Kuroo grinned at them, and it wasn’t the snarky, sharp grin that Akaashi had seen from him before. It was wide, bright, and just a little lopsided. “Hey, Akaashi. Did you enjoy the game?”

Akaashi felt his tension bleed away a little. There didn’t seem to be any underlying subtext in the question. He just sounded friendly. “Very much, Kuroo-san. You played well.”

Kuroo laughed. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure you weren’t watching me.”

Akaashi darted a look toward Bokuto, who was eyeing Kuroo with a slightly narrowed stare. “I thought you were staying out with the guys longer.”

Kuroo shrugged. “I got bored. Besides, Kenma said he’d come over. He should be here soon.”

“He’s coming over at two a.m.?” asked Bokuto, skeptical. 

“He got a new game a few nights ago,” said Kuroo. “His sleep schedule is all fucked up.”

Bokuto seemed to accept that as a reasonable explanation, though Akaashi still wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about.

“Me and Akaashi will be in my room then,” said Bokuto. He smiled at Akaashi before striding through the living room. “Goodnight, Kuroo!”

“’Night, Bo.” Kuroo’s mouth curled into a leer that looked much more at home on his face. “’Night, Akaashi. You kids have fun.”

Akaashi frowned at him. Bokuto grabbed a set of spare keys hanging on the wall and flung it toward Kuroo. “Don’t be a jerk! I told you to be nice to Akaashi!”

“I am being nice!” said Kuroo, throwing up an arm to shield himself and sloshing beer onto his shirt. “I’m always nice!”

Bokuto huffed at him, then followed Akaashi into his bedroom and kicked the door shut. “Sorry about that, ‘Kaashi.”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san. It doesn’t bother me.”

If that was the worst innuendo that anyone ever said to him, he would have no complaints.

Bokuto stood in the middle of the floor, looking too awkward considering they were in his bedroom. “So, uh… what do you want to do?”

“It’s almost two o’clock,” said Akaashi. “Do you really want to do something or do you just want to go to sleep?”

Bokuto rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, I’m pretty tired from the game and stuff… but if you want to do something, that’s cool! I’ll do whatever, I don’t care.”

Akaashi sighed, but it was a sound of fondness rather than exasperation. “Let’s just go to sleep, then. Maybe we can do something tomorrow.”

Bokuto perked up. “Really? I have practice tomorrow afternoon and coach will yell at me if I miss it, but can we spend the rest of the day together? We can do anything you want! Whatever you like.”

“I like spending time with you,” said Akaashi, “so I think I’ll be satisfied.”

Bokuto’s eyes went wide. Then he smiled so beautifully that it made Akaashi’s heart ache. “You’re the best, Akaashi!”

Akaashi still wasn’t sure why Bokuto thought so, but he wasn’t going to argue. 

He borrowed a set of clothes again, relishing the scent of Bokuto. 

Akaashi crawled into the bed and burrowed under the covers, waiting for Bokuto to return from the bathroom. He heard the sound of voices and vaguely wondered what Bokuto and Kuroo were talking about. They may have been discussing Akaashi; it wasn’t a farfetched idea. Kuroo may have been making snide comments about Akaashi’s presence in Bokuto’s bedroom, or trying to convince Bokuto that he was making a mistake by hanging out with an escort.

Akaashi tried not to think about it. He didn’t want to dislike Bokuto’s best friend. He knew there was no chance he would ever like Kuroo half as much as he liked Bokuto, but he wanted to at least get along with him, for Bokuto’s sake.

Besides, if Bokuto was forced to choose between them, Akaashi was certain that Kuroo would not be the one who had to go.

Bokuto returned a few minutes later. Akaashi saw the slight flush on his cheeks before Bokuto turned off the light. 

“Sorry, ‘Kaashi,” said Bokuto, his voice drifting out of the darkness. “I didn’t mean to take so long. Kuroo wanted to talk.”

“That’s fine, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto stumbled around for a moment before he made it to the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight and Akaashi inched over to give him more room.

It wasn’t as awkward as the last time. Bokuto didn’t go out of his way to keep distance between them. He immediately reached across the space, a warm arm folding around Akaashi’s waist and dragging him close. Akaashi melted into the contact, shifting himself back to press against Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto was warm and firm and strong, and Akaashi felt safer in Bokuto’s arms than he had in a long, long time.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for coming to see my game today.” Bokuto’s breath ruffled the hair over Akaashi’s ear. The heat made him shiver. “I’m really happy you were there. It means a lot.”

“I enjoyed it,” said Akaashi. “I like watching you play. You’re really good, Bokuto-san.”

He couldn’t see Bokuto in the dark, but he knew he was grinning. “Thanks, Akaashi. You’re the best.”

He’d just said that fifteen minutes before, but it still made Akaashi feel warm. Bokuto could say nearly anything and Akaashi would feel warm, because anything that Bokuto said was genuine. It was something that Akaashi wasn’t familiar with, and something that he’d like to get used to.

Bokuto wriggled closer, nuzzling at the back of Akaashi’s neck. His arm squeezed at Akaashi’s waist lightly. When he spoke, his voice dipped into a whisper. “Thanks for coming over, too, ‘Kaashi. Thanks for everything.”

A spark of heat burst in Akaashi’s chest. His throat felt a little too tight, like he was being choked again, but this time from the inside out. 

He fidgeted and Bokuto let go immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” said Bokuto. “Did I-?”

Akaashi shushed him and maneuvered onto his other side, facing Bokuto. The only light in the room was the distant glow of the city slanting through the window. He could barely make out the fuzzy planes of Bokuto’s face, but it was enough light for him to find Bokuto’s lips when he leaned in to kiss him.

Bokuto’s mouth was hot, and he tasted a little like mint toothpaste, and Akaashi had never been so desperate to kiss someone.

He looped an arm over Bokuto, seized the back of his shirt, and pulled himself as close as possible, their bodies pressed together from lips to chest to hip. Bokuto made a sound against his mouth and kissed him back with fervor, his lips sliding and sucking and pulling against Akaashi’s.

The smell of Bokuto on Akaashi’s borrowed shirt had been potent, but the real thing was overwhelming. It surrounded him, soaked into him, _intoxicated_ him. He could drown in that scent. He could drown in Bokuto.

He slipped a leg between Bokuto’s and pressed his thigh up, sparking a burst of friction.

Bokuto made a strangled sound and pulled away from the kiss with a wet _pop_.

“’Kaashi,” he said, a touch breathless. “Wait a minute.”

“For what?” said Akaashi. His own breath was short, leaving his lungs in quick bursts. 

He didn’t want to wait a minute. He didn’t want to wait a single second. He wanted Bokuto, wanted him desperately, wanted him in every way.

“We need to slow down,” said Bokuto. He tried to pull back but Akaashi clung to him, hand still clutched in his shirt. 

“Why?” said Akaashi. “I don’t want to slow down.”

Bokuto’s swallow was an audible click in his throat. When he spoke, his voice was a little raspy. “ _Akaashi_.”

Akaashi gave Bokuto’s shoulder a little push and he rolled onto his back. Akaashi climbed on top of him, straddling Bokuto’s hips, lowering himself down to kiss him again. Bokuto’s tongue scorched through Akaashi’s lips and lit the inside of his mouth on fire. Akaashi licked against him, his palms pressed against Bokuto’s broad chest. Akaashi rolled his hips down once, rutting into the hardness stirring beneath him.

Bokuto gasped and surged up against him, seeking more.

Then he realized what he was doing.

Bokuto twisted his head to one side, breaking away from Akaashi to catch a breath. His hands gripped Akaashi’s hips, holding him still so he couldn’t thrust down again.

“’Kaashi, stop,” said Bokuto. His voice had nearly devolved into panting. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too soon,” said Bokuto. “We haven’t… haven’t…” He made a sound of frustration, unable to complete the sentence. “Fuck. Could you move for just a second? I can’t think with you on me like this. It’s too much.”

“Then don’t think,” said Akaashi. He dipped his head to mouth at the side of Bokuto’s neck. 

Bokuto nearly moaned, but clamped his lips together to stifle the sound. “Akaashi, please,” he managed. “Please stop.”

Akaashi went still, his lips suspended a centimeter away from Bokuto’s skin. He sat up, slowly, and climbed off of Bokuto.

Bokuto slapped his hands over his eyes and groaned. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Akaashi, I just… I don’t know what I’m doing when you’re… when you’re touching me like that. I can’t think.”

Akaashi licked his lips and inched a little farther away from him, until his shoulder bumped the wall. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.” He wasn’t certain what he was apologizing for, but clearly he’d done something wrong. 

“No, don’t… _dammit_ ,” said Bokuto. He threaded his fingers into his own hair and pulled, the movement barely visible in the low light. “ _I’m_ sorry, ‘Kaashi, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He hadn’t done anything. Akaashi had been the instigator, and he wasn’t sure why that was a bad thing. He’d felt Bokuto harden against him. Clearly this wasn’t something Bokuto was opposed to.

“Why are you apologizing?” said Akaashi.

“Because we need to wait,” said Bokuto. His voice was gradually returning to normal, his breaths slowing. “We need to wait, because I want you to be okay with this.”

“I am okay with it,” said Akaashi. “I don’t…”

_I don’t mind._

He stopped himself before he said it, but Bokuto must have known that’s what he was thinking.

“I like you, Akaashi,” said Bokuto. He reached out and fumbled in the dark before finding Akaashi’s hand. “You know that, right? I really, really like you.”

“I like you too, Bokuto-san.”

“I just want you to know,” said Bokuto. “I want you to know that, first. I don’t want to use you. I _care_ about you, you know? Even if we never have sex, ever. It doesn’t matter.”

Akaashi didn’t respond. He wasn’t quite sure he could speak.

“I want to make sure it’s what you want too, you know?” said Bokuto, squeezing Akaashi’s hand. 

Akaashi was pretty sure it was exactly what he wanted. He’d never actually wanted it before, had never seen the purpose in it. But maybe with Bokuto he could understand what the big deal was. Maybe he could understand why everyone was always so obsessed with having sex. 

“Akaashi? Is that okay? I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” said Akaashi. He was surprised that his voice sounded normal. “It’s fine. Whatever you want.”

“Can I, um… Can I still kiss you? Just for a minute?”

Despite his tangle of conflicting emotions, he felt the curve of a smile pull at his mouth. “Of course, Bokuto-san.”

The kisses that followed were warm and soft and innocent. When they tapered off, Bokuto again pulled Akaashi close.

“Goodnight, Akaashi,” he said. He pressed one last kiss to Akaashi’s shoulder. 

Akaashi closed his eyes and tried to ignore the burn left behind by that gentle contact. “Goodnight, Bokuto-san.”

He felt like there was more to say, more that he _needed_ to say. There was so much feeling burning in his chest, feeling that he’d never thought he’d be capable of. It was all for Bokuto, everything was for Bokuto, but he didn’t know how to tell him that. He didn’t know if he _should_ tell him that.

Bokuto liked him, sure, but he couldn’t feel the same way that Akaashi felt. Bokuto was the sun; it was natural that Akaashi would be drawn to him.

Akaashi had nothing to offer in return. He couldn’t expect Bokuto to grow as attached to him as Akaashi was to Bokuto.

He decided it was best to stop thinking about it. 

He nestled closer into Bokuto’s chest and tried to only focus on the present. When Bokuto decided that Akaashi was no longer of interest to him, when he realized he could do so much better, at least Akaashi would have this. He would have the memory of Bokuto’s warmth soaking through his borrowed clothes, of Bokuto’s breath on his neck.

He would remember, and that would have to be enough.


	9. Chapter 9

The following week was Kuroo’s birthday.

The celebration was to be held at Nekoma, the bar that Kuroo and Bokuto frequented. All of their friends were invited and Bokuto said that Kuroo planned to drink his actual weight in alcohol.

Akaashi was pretty sure that would literally kill Kuroo, but he didn’t point it out.

In fact, he had no idea why Bokuto was even telling him about the birthday plans until he realized Bokuto was inviting him. He tried to decline because he felt Kuroo probably didn’t want him there, but Bokuto was insistent.

Since Kuroo’s birthday was on a Thursday, Akaashi couldn’t think of a good reason to say no.

He felt a little less awkward this time when he arrived at Nekoma. He’d been there before, so he mostly knew what to expect.

What he didn’t expect was the sheer loudness of Kuroo’s group of friends.

He should have known. The fact that Bokuto was Kuroo’s best friend was a good indicator.

Still, when he stepped through the doors of the club and spotted Kuroo’s group in the back, where three long tables had been pushed together to accommodate the size of the party, he almost turned around and walked right back out.

The only thing that stopped him was the sight of Bokuto, sitting right beside Kuroo, his head thrown back in laughter.

Akaashi could do this. If it meant he got to spend time with Bokuto, he could endure anything.

Kuroo was the first to notice him. He raised a glass in greeting, his grin wide and a little sloppy. It was clear that he was already a few drinks in. “Hey, you came!”

“Happy birthday, Kuroo-san,” said Akaashi. The eyes of everyone at the table swiveled toward him

“Hey, hey, Akaashi!” said Bokuto, his voice booming over the sounds of the club. “I saved you a seat! Here!”

He yanked out the empty chair beside him with a flourish and Akaashi smiled a little despite himself. 

He circled the table and took the seat beside Bokuto, still very aware of the stares following him. It only got worse when Kuroo declared, “Hey, everybody, this is Akaashi! Akaashi, this is… everyone.”

He took another drink, apparently unconcerned with proper introductions. Bokuto slung an arm over the back of Akaashi’s chair and leaned a little closer, taking up the job. He pointed out everyone at the table and told Akaashi their name, their relationship to Kuroo, and probably their blood type. Akaashi stopped listening after the first few introductions, when he caught sight of a familiar face across the table and his heart skipped an anxious beat.

The face was staring back, squinting slightly, as if trying to place Akaashi.

Akaashi hoped he didn’t make the connection. 

Akaashi had only seen him once, briefly. This man was the reason Akaashi had his job, in a roundabout way. He’d been on the Fukurodani payroll as the top-earning male escort, the position that Akaashi currently occupied. When this man had left the job they’d needed someone to replace him quickly, and Akaashi had needed the money.

“That’s Oikawa,” said Bokuto, his voice finally breaking through Akaashi’s panic as he pointed out the man. “He’s on the team, too. He’s our setter. And this is…”

Akaashi tried to listen, but it was in vain. His thoughts seemed to fizzle out, gaze fixed on Oikawa, whose narrowed eyes were beginning to widen in belated recognition.

Akaashi’s mouth was dry. He forced himself to look away, to follow Bokuto’s round of introductions. He caught the name “Kenma”, paired with something about “when they were kids”, and distantly connected the words to the blonde man on Kuroo’s other side with his phone held a centimeter away from his face.

“’Kaashi?”

Akaashi blinked and looked at Bokuto, who was frowning at him. He realized Bokuto had probably repeated his name several times in an attempt to get his attention. 

“Is something wrong?”

Akaashi’s eyes darted across the table toward Oikawa, who had leaned close to the man beside him and was hissing something into his ear.

Akaashi tried not to panic. If Oikawa said anything about Akaashi, that meant he’d have to admit he had worked at Fukurodani, too. Surely no one at the table knew that about him. Surely they wouldn’t still let him be a part of their group if they did.

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. It was fortunate that the club was so loud. The shake in his voice wasn’t even audible. 

“Do you want a drink or something?” said Bokuto. “I’ll get it for you! I can get you a water like last time. Or you can have the rest of mine,” he said, nudging the half-full beer on the table. “I’ve been drinking it so I know it’s okay.”

“That’s quite alright, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. “I don’t need anything.”

Bokuto considered him, then leapt from his seat. “I’ll get you a water, then,” he declared. “I’ll be right back.”

He darted through the crowd, in the direction of the bar. Akaashi watched him go with a twist of anxiety in his gut.

Someone leaned across the table. Akaashi had no idea what his name was. “So you’re the guy Bo talks about all the time?”

“Umm,” said Akaashi. “I don’t… know?”

Kuroo laughed and leaned closer to sling an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. He smelled like cheap liquor and Akaashi had to force himself not to flinch away. “’Course he is!” said Kuroo. The alcohol made him speak louder than usual. He was almost at Bokuto’s typical volume. “Bo’s crazy about him!”

The man on his other side, Kenma, elbowed Kuroo in the ribs without looking away from his phone. “You’re making him uncomfortable, Kuro.”

Kuroo frowned at him and then looked back at Akaashi. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You smell like a brewery,” said Akaashi. It was the nicest thing he could come up with that might also convince Kuroo to let go.

Kuroo stared at him. Then he started laughing and retracted his arm. Akaashi breathed a little easier.

“You’re alright, ‘Kaashi,” said Kuroo. “I wasn’t sure at first, but you’re growing on me.”

Akaashi thought that was probably a compliment, but he didn’t have the chance to appreciate it.

Oikawa propped his elbows on the table. A dainty glass was clutched between his fingers, a swish of pale liquid swirling in the bottom. “So Akaashi,” he said, his eyes glinting. “What do you do?”

Akaashi’s breath caught. The man at Oikawa’s side snapped something at him but Oikawa shook it off.

“I’m a student,” said Akaashi after a momentary struggle. “Pre-law.”

“How admirable,” said Oikawa. The words didn’t match his needling tone. “Is that all, then? Surely you work, too. It’s almost impossible not to, unless you were born with a silver spoon. What kind of job do you have, Akaashi?”

Akaashi wished Bokuto hadn’t left. Maybe he would have been able to answer the question, because Akaashi certainly couldn’t.

The man at Oikawa’s side shoved him so hard that the rest of Oikawa’s drink splashed onto the table. Oikawa hissed in outrage, but his friend just seized him by the arm and dragged him out of his chair.

“Stop being an ass, Shittykawa,” he snapped. “Come on, let’s get another drink.”

“But Iwa-chan, I was just-”

Akaashi never found out what he was just doing. His friend yanked him away from the table and Akaashi sank back a little in his chair. 

He should probably just leave now. It would be the easiest thing to do. He didn’t want to ruin Kuroo’s birthday and he didn’t want to embarrass Bokuto in front of his friends. He didn’t belong there. 

Bokuto plopped back into his chair with a grin, oblivious to Akaashi’s internal struggle. He slid a bottle of water onto the table in front of Akaashi.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi, probably too quietly to be heard. He reached for the bottle, just to have something to do with his hands.

Bokuto leaned closer to talk to him. Too close, probably, despite the need to be heard over the noise. “If you decide you want something else just let me know. I’ll get you anything you want.”

Akaashi just nodded. He glanced to the side, but it seemed Kuroo’s friends were no longer staring at him. They’d dissolved back into their own conversations, mingled with smiles and jokes and laughter.

Everyone was so carefree. Akaashi wondered what that was like.

“So how were your classes today?” said Bokuto, scooting his chair even closer. “Tell me about them.”

Akaashi’s classes were extraordinarily boring, but he talked a little about them anyway, because he wasn’t sure what else to do. Bokuto listened intently, occasionally taking a sip of his beer. He was drinking slowly, which was significantly different from Kuroo, who’d taken at least three shots since Akaashi had arrived.

He wondered if Bokuto was going easy on the alcohol because he needed to monitor his soon-to-be-wasted best friend, or if it was because Akaashi wasn’t drinking.

Either way, Akaashi admired Bokuto for it.

Oikawa and his friend returned to the table a while later. Akaashi was tense as they sat down, but Oikawa no longer seemed interested in him. Oikawa sat with his arms folded and his bottom lip out, tossing frequent glares toward his unaffected friend. 

Akaashi didn’t know what they’d talked about while they were gone, but he was grateful for the change.

Akaashi somewhat expected to be left to fend for himself during the evening. After all, it was Bokuto’s best friend’s birthday. Kuroo should be Bokuto’s number one focus for the night. 

As the minutes dragged into an hour, Bokuto didn’t leave Akaashi alone again for more than five minutes, and that was to retrieve his second beer of the night. Akaashi wasn’t even all that uncomfortable while he was gone, now that Oikawa wasn’t staring at him anymore.

In fact, Oikawa was no longer at the table. He’d migrated to the dance floor and was twirling along aside a tall girl with short hair, her laugh inaudible from that distance but apparent on her face.

Oikawa’s friend, who Akaashi had discovered to be called Iwaizumi, threw them an occasional glance, but appeared more concerned with a story being told by one of the other men at the table.

Kuroo scooted into Bokuto’s vacant chair, his hazy eyes on Akaashi. “Yo. Here.” He slid one of his shots in front of Akaashi, right next to his half-empty water bottle. “Take one of my birthday shots with me.”

“That’s alright, Kuroo-san,” said Akaashi, nudging it back toward Kuroo. “I’d rather not.”

Kuroo stared at him, and Akaashi was certain Kuroo would insist.

Instead he took the shot and tossed it back himself, not even wincing as it hit the back of his throat. Akaashi wondered if he’d reached the proper level of intoxication to be immune to the burn.

“You know,” said Kuroo, the words a little fuzzy around the edges, “The first time I met you I was a dick.”

Akaashi blinked, startled by the confession.

“Like, a real dick,” continued Kuroo. He propped an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. His hair was more of a mess than usual, impossibly tangled where it flopped into his face. Still, beneath that messy exterior, there was a layer of charm that even Akaashi could recognize, despite his lingering disdain for Kuroo. “I thought that because of… well, you know… because of _that_ , you weren’t good for Bo. But you are. Good for Bo, I mean. You’re a good guy, ‘Kaashi. And I’m sorry about the scarf thing that one time. Like, really sorry.”

“That’s alright, Kuroo-san,” said Akaashi. He didn’t doubt the sincerity of the apology, but he did doubt Kuroo’s ability to remember it the following day. “Please don’t worry about it.”

“I tried to talk Bo into not seeing you anymore, you know,” said Kuroo. “I told him a lot of stuff, and I was wrong.”

Akaashi swallowed thickly. His eyes darted to the side, where a couple of Kuroo’s friends had decided to tune into their conversation. 

“It’s fine,” said Akaashi. 

“You sure?”

“Yes, Kuroo-san.”

“’Cause I like you, ‘Kaashi,” continued Kuroo. “And Bo _really_ likes you. And I’m glad your neck is okay now. We were worried about you.” 

He reached out and prodded at Akaashi’s throat. Akaashi carefully pushed his hand away. 

“Thanks for your concern, Kuroo-san.”

“I think he loves you,” said Kuroo. 

Shock sizzled through Akaashi’s limbs and buzzed in his fingertips. He gaped at Kuroo, wondering if he’d misheard.

“Don’t tell him I said that, though,” said Kuroo, leaning a little closer. Akaashi could smell the liquor on his breath. “He’ll be mad at me.”

Akaashi fumbled with his words, but was spared the trouble of responding.

“Kuroo, I know it’s your birthday, but get out of my chair,” said Bokuto, coming up behind them. He had a beer in one hand and another bottle of water in the other. He pressed the water into Kuroo’s hand and said, “Drink this. You’re going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow. It might help a little.”

Kuroo squinted at the bottle. “There’s no alcohol in this.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.”

Kuroo looked up toward Bokuto, a hazy glare settling onto his face. “Dude, you used to drink me under the table. Getting a boyfriend really mellowed you out.”

Bokuto sputtered a broken response and shoved Kuroo back into his own chair. Akaashi stared down at his hands, willing himself not to blush.

Bokuto plopped into his seat and tried to hide the redness of his own face as he sipped his beer. “Sorry, ‘Kaashi.”

“You know you don’t have to apologize for everyone else,” said Akaashi. He spoke so quietly that his words were almost washed away by the beat of the music. “You’re not responsible for anyone but yourself.”

Bokuto considered him. “And you,” he said. “I want to be responsible for you, too.”

Akaashi wanted to blame the sappy statement on the alcohol but knew Bokuto was absolutely sober.

“Aww, Bo-chan, how sweet.” 

It was more of a purr than a voice, and Akaashi looked up to find that Oikawa had returned. His face was tinted pink from dancing and his hair was artfully tousled. 

Oikawa’s smirk slid away from Bokuto to settle on Akaashi. 

“You look like you’re a good dancer, Aka-chan,” he said. His voice was bright but something sharp gleamed in his eyes. “Come dance with me.”

Akaashi balked. He glanced sideways at Bokuto, who studied Oikawa with a strange expression.

“I don’t dance,” said Akaashi. He clenched his fingers together in his lap.

“Oh, come on,” said Oikawa. “Just one song. I’m sure we have _a lot_ in common.”

Akaashi didn’t know if that was supposed to be a threat, but it certainly sounded like one.

He didn’t know what to say. The last thing he wanted to do was dance with Oikawa, but if it was that or have Oikawa tell everyone at the table that he fucked other men for money, he supposed he would have to make the sacrifice. For Bokuto, if not for himself. He couldn’t be an embarrassment, after all Bokuto had done for him.

He opened his mouth to grudgingly accept, but Bokuto cut in before he could speak.

“He said he doesn’t want to,” he said, his arched brows folding together. “Stop being a creep, Oikawa.”

“Aww, no need to be overprotective, Bo-chan,” said Oikawa. “I promise I won’t steal him from you.”

“Like I’m worried about that,” scoffed Bokuto. “Akaashi’s too smart to fall for your dumb flirting.”

“Oh?” said Oikawa, his smirk growing. “You mean the way you did when we first met, Bo-chan?”

“Shut the fuck up, Oikawa,” snapped Bokuto. His voice was so sharp that it caught Akaashi by surprise. He’d never expected such venom from Bokuto.

“Or what?”

“Hey!” Kuroo’s blurred shout was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone on that side of the club. His voice was a little raspy from the last shot he’d taken. “No fighting on my birthday!”

Bokuto settled back in his seat. “Sorry.” He didn’t look as if he really meant it.

“No worries, Tetsu-chan,” trilled Oikawa. “No fighting. Iwa-chan, come dance with me!”

“Fuck off.”

They started their own argument that somehow seemed more fond than heated. Bokuto turned to Akaashi, brows still pulled into a frown. “Sorry about him, ‘Kaashi. He’s kind of a jerk.”

“I told you not to apologize for other people. It isn’t your fault.”

Bokuto sighed, started to take another drink of his beer, then placed it back on the table. “We didn’t hook up or anything,” he said in a rush, leaning closer so he wouldn’t be overheard. “We just, like, kissed and stuff. But only a little bit! It was before I got to know him. Once I did, I didn’t want to anymore. I don’t like him like that.”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san.”

It really was fine. Akaashi didn’t blame Bokuto for being drawn in by Oikawa’s charm. It was just the image of Oikawa touching Bokuto, of kissing him, of convincing him to do more, that put Akaashi on edge.

Akaashi knew how adept Oikawa was at seduction. He knew, because he’d been taught the same set of skills.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” said Akaashi, pushing his chair back. He needed to breathe for a minute, somewhere away from Oikawa. “I’ll be right back.”

Bokuto looked a little disappointed, but he nodded. “Okay, ‘Kaashi. I’ll save your seat.”

It was an unnecessary promise, but Akaashi appreciated it all the same. He grazed a hand along Bokuto’s shoulders as he walked away, a bit of consolation for his abrupt departure.

His foray into the thick of the club was unpleasant, but manageable. When he stepped into the bathroom it seemed to be blessedly empty. 

Then he spotted Kenma standing in the corner, still focused on his phone. 

Akaashi glanced at him and then moved forward to wash his hands, just to have something to do. As he yanked down a paper towel he felt Kenma’s eyes on him.

He looked over and Kenma immediately dropped his gaze. 

“Are you okay?” said Kenma, tapping at his phone screen.

“I’m fine,” said Akaashi. He crinkled the towel between his damp fingers. “Are you?”

Kenma shrugged one shoulder. “I needed to get away from the noise. It’s a little too much. If Kuro wasn’t so drunk he would’ve already told me to leave.”

Akaashi didn’t know what to say to that. He also didn’t know if Kenma wanted to continue their conversation or if he preferred to be left alone.

Kenma spoke up again. “Kuro said you’re a prostitute.”

Akaashi froze. He looked over his shoulder, expecting to find some sort of disgust etched across Kenma’s face. 

There was nothing there. He looked almost bored by the conversation.

“What’s it like?” asked Kenma.

The question seemed curious rather than judgmental. Akaashi considered briefly before saying, “It’s good money.”

Kenma blinked once, golden eyes piercing. “But what’s it like?”

Akaashi reconsidered the question. “It’s… uncomfortable, sometimes,” he said, surprised by his own honesty. “It isn’t as bad as you would think, though. Most of the clients are decent people.”

Kenma just blinked again and said nothing more.

The bathroom door swung open. Akaashi glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Kenma.

Then he realized he recognized the person who’d just walked in and his blood ran cold.

Seeing Oikawa out in public wasn’t pleasant.

This was much, much worse.

Akaashi clenched his hands at his sides and hoped, _prayed_ , that he wouldn’t be noticed, that he wouldn’t be recognized, that the man would just go about his business and Akaashi could return to Bokuto and- 

“Leo?”

Akaashi squeezed his eyes shut, as if it might make him invisible.

“Ah, it is you.” The voice had moved closer and Akaashi felt the urge to flee. 

Instead he took a deep, steadying breath and turned to face him.

His grin was the same as Akaashi remembered, a row of perfect white teeth that belied the man’s character. Just looking at him made Akaashi’s skin crawl.

Kenma’s quick eyes darted between them, gaze sharp as he put the pieces together.

“Hello, Kubo-san,” said Akaashi, infusing his voice with all the politeness he could muster. It wasn’t much. He had little civility to spare for the man who had choked him into near unconsciousness.

The man’s smile widened. He looked absolutely gleeful. “You remember me! I guess I made a good impression.”

Akaashi’s hand went to the side of his neck without his consent. He dropped his arm as soon as he realized, but Kubo’s eyes tracked the motion. They lingered on Akaashi’s throat, a spark in them that made Akaashi’s stomach churn.

Kubo took another step closer and Akaashi clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t retreat. He couldn’t show that kind of weakness. If he acted afraid then Kubo would have even more leverage over him.

“You look good, Leo,” said Kubo. He was smiling. It would have been a pleasant expression if Akaashi hadn’t already seen the person lurking beneath. “How about you let me buy you a drink?”

“No thank you, Kubo-san,” said Akaashi mildly. He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder, to gauge his distance from the wall. He didn’t want to get pinned into a corner. He looked the other way toward Kenma, but he was gone. 

Akaashi didn’t blame him. He wished he could leave that easily, too.

“Why not?” Kubo took another step. He was an arm’s length away.

Akaashi’s fists clenched at his sides. It was automatic; he didn’t know if he would truly hit Kubo or not. He’d never been forced into a fight before. 

“My boyfriend is waiting on me.”

One of Kubo’s eyebrows rose. His grin became a little sharper. “Boyfriend? C’mon, Leo, you don’t have to lie to me. You don’t have a boyfriend.”

He moved a little closer and Akaashi finally gave in. He shuffled back a single step, aware even as he did it that he was putting himself closer to the wall. He glanced toward the door. If he tried to dart around Kubo he would be easily caught.

He didn’t want to give Kubo a reason to lash out at him. 

“I do,” said Akaashi, “and he’s waiting for me. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just-”

“Are you embarrassed because of what happened?” said Kubo, cutting him short. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. It did kind of suck to waste my money like that, though.” He took another step. He was several centimeters taller, and Akaashi hated the way he had to look up at him. “Maybe you could make it up to me. What do you say, Leo?”

“I apologize,” said Akaashi, the words grinding through his teeth, “but I am not working tonight. Even if I was, I would rather die than let you touch me again.”

Kubo’s face blanked. Then the smile crept back onto his face, softer than before. 

It made Akaashi shudder.

“Alright, I get it,” said Kubo. He inched closer, and this time when Akaashi stepped back, his shoulder bumped into the wall. “I went too fast last time. Sorry about that. Give me one more chance. I swear I’ll make it up to you, alright? Come on, let me buy you a drink and show you a good time.”

He reached out, like he was about to touch Akaashi’s face. Akaashi smacked his hand away. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. “Don’t touch me.”

He stepped sideways, hoping to maneuver around Kubo without any problems.

A heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder and shattered that plan into pieces.

“Hang on now,” said Kubo. He leaned nearer and Akaashi smelled the alcohol on his breath. “Just give me a chance. Five minutes.”

His lips grazed Akaashi’s temple. The stubble on his chin scratched unpleasantly. He pressed closer and Akaashi felt something hard rub against his hip.

Panic froze Akaashi in place. His breath caught in his throat and his heartbeat was so loud that he thought it may deafen him. 

Across the room, the sound enhanced by Akaashi’s overloaded senses, the bathroom door slammed open with hurricane force. 

Akaashi couldn’t see around Kubo’s bulk, but the voice that blared in the small space was unmistakable.

“ _Akaashi!_ ”

Kubo turned slightly, just far enough to see over his shoulder. 

With Kubo out of his face, Akaashi regained control over his body. He rammed his knee upward, right between Kubo’s legs. 

Kubo stumbled back and clutched at himself, a wheeze sputtering through his lips.

Then Bokuto was there, putting himself directly between Akaashi and Kubo, a human shield worth much more than iron or steel.

“Stay away from Akaashi!” he shouted, his voice echoing from the walls. 

“I didn’t do anything,” said Kubo, voice choked. He glared up at Bokuto, still slightly hunched over. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m his boyfriend,” Bokuto growled. “Back off.”

Kubo chuckled through his pain. “How about that,” he said. “He wasn’t lying. The whore really does have a boyfriend.”

Bokuto went rigid. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. 

Then all at once he lunged forward. His fist cut through the air and slammed into the side of Kubo’s face.

The crack of bone against bone wasn’t as loud as Akaashi would have expected. The noise wasn’t nearly as dramatic as the sight of Kubo crumpling, slouching into a wheezing heap on the bathroom floor. 

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about him like that,” said Bokuto. His voice was quiet. It was a drastic, uneasy contrast to his normal boisterous tone. His fist was still clenched at his side. “Don’t talk about him at all. Don’t even _look_ at him. If I ever see you again I’m going to fuck you up _good_. Got it?”

Kubo didn’t respond. His hand was flat against his mouth. Blood dribbled out of his nose and dripped over his fingers. His eyes were huge.

The fear wasn’t surprising. Akaashi had never imagined Bokuto could be this intimidating. It was frightening, but at the same time it eased the tension in Akaashi’s stiff muscles. 

Bokuto turned on Akaashi, rage smoldering like embers in his golden eyes.

Akaashi didn’t flinch away. He wasn’t afraid of Bokuto. 

Bokuto blinked and the flames danced a little lower. He held out his hand and Akaashi noticed a distinct tremble in Bokuto’s fingers. “C’mon, ‘Kaashi. Let’s go.”

Akaashi hesitated. He looked at Kubo and felt a phantom tingle against his throat, a memory that he’d tried to erase. 

He wanted to ask Bokuto if he was sure. He wanted to tell Bokuto what Kubo had done to him, what all of his clients had done to him. He wanted to paint Bokuto a picture of how accurate Kubo’s insult was.

It hadn’t been off the mark. Akaashi was just a high-class whore. Bokuto knew that, of course, but he must not have comprehended exactly what it meant, because if he did, then Akaashi couldn’t understand why Bokuto was still there. He didn’t know why Bokuto would bother defending him from an insult that was true, or why Bokuto was offering his hand to Akaashi in spite of it all.

Akaashi wanted to say many things to Bokuto, but his throat was too tight. It wasn’t from residual fear – he no longer had a single concern about Kubo, who was staring blankly at the blood on his hand – but from the way Bokuto looked at him, as if he actually meant something. As if he was worth something. 

He reached out, let Bokuto thread their fingers together, and followed him to the door.

Kenma was in the doorway, watching them with shrewd eyes. He moved to the side as they passed and Bokuto paused long enough to say, “Kuroo’s too drunk to notice we’re gone. Will you make sure he’s alright?”

Kenma nodded. “I’ll bring him home.”

“Thanks, Kenma.”

With that settled, Bokuto led Akaashi through the crowd, weaving through the drunk men and the well-dressed women. No one spared a single glance for their hasty retreat.

When they stepped outside, the chill night air hit Akaashi like a pickup truck. He sucked in a lungful and realized he probably hadn’t taken a proper breath since he caught sight of Kubo in the bathroom.

He breathed so hard that he thought he might hyperventilate. Bokuto still had his hand and he went along with the pull, his eyes focused somewhere at his feet. 

When they stumbled to a stop Akaashi couldn’t look up. He didn’t want to see Bokuto’s face, because the more he thought about it, the more logical it was to think Bokuto would realize exactly what he was doing. He was going to realize that Akaashi wasn’t worth the trouble. He was going to realize that he could do so much better than a _whore_.

“Akaashi?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t think he could.

“Akaashi, are you okay?”

Bokuto’s hands were hot on his shoulders. Akaashi closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. Panic fluttered in his chest even more strongly than it had with Kubo pressed against him. Losing Bokuto was more terrifying than the thought of Kubo touching him. Losing Bokuto was more frightening than anything.

Bokuto’s hands fell away and Akaashi held his breath. 

Then strong arms wrapped around Akaashi and pulled him close. Bokuto’s scent was everywhere. It was threaded with the lingering smell of alcohol from the club, but it was still wholly Bokuto. 

“It’s okay,” said Bokuto. He spoke quietly into Akaashi’s ear. “I’ve got you, ‘Kaashi. You’re okay.”

Akaashi looped his arms around Bokuto’s waist and clenched his fists in the back of his shirt. He buried his face in Bokuto’s neck and forbade himself to cry.

Bokuto pressed a kiss against Akaashi’s cheek, his temple, his hair. 

“You’re fine,” said Bokuto, rocking Akaashi slightly from side to side, his embrace unwavering. “Everything’s fine.”

Akaashi closed his eyes and breathed in Bokuto and wished that it was the truth.


	10. Chapter 10

Akaashi was good at forgetting. That was the one thing that had kept him together over the past couple of years.

One thing he would never forget was the way Bokuto looked when Akaashi finally scraped together the courage to pull out of his embrace.

He expected disdain at best, maybe residual anger bleeding over from Kubo to Akaashi.

But Bokuto’s face was all concern, softened by a warm tenderness that Akaashi had never expected to see from anyone again.

The last time he’d seen such blatant affection had been on his mother’s face. When Akaashi had turned eighteen and she’d discovered he wasn’t the perfect son after all, he’d never seen that expression – or his mother – again. 

He half-feared that the same thing would happen now. Something would trigger Bokuto into despising him and he would extract himself from Akaashi’s life and leave an ugly, gaping hole. It would be like having a tooth pulled, only ten times worse.

Instead of a tooth, something he could assuredly live without, it would be his heart getting ripped out of his chest. 

Akaashi tried to shove the thought away. Bokuto wasn’t like that. Bokuto already knew the worst of him and he had never shied away.

Akaashi needed to stop underestimating him.

“Are you alright?” said Bokuto quietly, stroking Akaashi’s hair away from his forehead.

Akaashi nodded, his eyes fluttering closed beneath the touch. “Yes.”

Bokuto’s hand slipped into his, their fingers threading together perfectly. “Come on,” said Bokuto, gently pulling him along. “Let’s go home.”

A short walk and a few cigarettes later, the two of them ended up at Akaashi’s apartment. It was much closer than Bokuto’s, and Bokuto probably thought Akaashi would feel more comfortable at his own place.

That wasn’t necessarily true. Akaashi slept just as well in Bokuto’s bed as he did in his own.

When Akaashi unlocked the apartment, Bokuto hovered awkwardly at the door.

“I, umm… if you want me to go, that’s fine. So you can be by yourself, I mean. I don’t want to bother you.”

Akaashi’s stare was flat. “Bokuto-san, just come inside. We need to clean up your hand.”

Akaashi had noticed about halfway there that Bokuto’s knuckles were busted. When he’d pointed it out, Bokuto had been equally as surprised.

Bokuto raised his hand and frowned down at the crust of blood. “Oh, yeah. I forgot already.”

He followed Akaashi inside the apartment and into the small bathroom. Akaashi guided Bokuto’s hand beneath a cold stream of water and Bokuto hissed in protest. 

“Hang on,” murmured Akaashi, rifling through the cabinet. “I have peroxide in here somewhere.”

Bokuto liked that even less. He whined as Akaashi poured the bubbling peroxide, insisting that he didn’t need to be disinfected.

“I have a strong immune system,” said Bokuto, trying to pull away. “I’m not going to catch anything.”

Akaashi only drizzled more across the back of his hand, his grip tight on Bokuto’s wrist. “Please stop struggling, Bokuto-san. You’re being dramatic.”

When the worst was over, Akaashi took Bokuto’s battered hand in both of his and blew lightly across the back of his knuckles. He retrieved a roll of gauze and carefully wrapped it over the back of Bokuto’s hand and around to his palm, firmly enough to hold, loosely enough to prevent discomfort. 

When he was finished he gently squeezed Bokuto’s fingers and released him.

“Thanks, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto mumbled, staring down at his hand. His cheeks were tinted pink and Akaashi couldn’t figure out why.

“You’re welcome,” said Akaashi as he packed the supplies away into the cabinet. “I owe you that much, at least.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Akaashi looked up at him. “You defended me. You didn’t have to do that. I’m sorry for the trouble.” He shut the cabinet door and finished, quietly, “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

When he turned back around Bokuto was closer, so close that if it was anyone else, Akaashi would have been uncomfortable.

But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Bokuto, and he could never be close enough.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” said Bokuto. “That was nothing, ‘Kaashi. I only hit him one time. I wanted to hit him more, but … but I thought you wouldn’t want me to.” He looked at Akaashi and his eyes were moonlight-bright, painfully vulnerable. “I’d do anything for you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi’s chest burst with such warmth that he feared he would catch flame. He’d never felt such raw affection, so hot and real that it was ripping him apart from the inside out.

He took Bokuto’s face between his hands and kissed him with everything he had, hoping the hot, desperate feeling in his chest could be conveyed through touch alone. 

Even if Bokuto couldn’t feel Akaashi’s fire, he was certainly stoking his own. He kissed Akaashi back with almost bruising force, his hands sliding around to press against Akaashi’s spine, holding him impossibly closer.

There was more heat between their lips than had Akaashi had ever felt. The kisses they’d shared before had been slow and careful, a handful of sparks that danced like fireflies.

This was pure passion, burning like the surface of the sun. Akaashi felt he would overheat every time Bokuto’s mouth touched him, like fire sizzled between their lips. Yet he kept pressing for more, dipping his tongue into the flames, _burning_ for it.

Bokuto’s hands spread sparks down Akaashi’s sides, moved past his hips, and clutched the backs of his thighs. Then Akaashi was in the air, suspended by the hard muscles of Bokuto’s arms. He crossed his ankles behind Bokuto’s waist and leaned further into him, trusting that he wouldn’t fall.

Bokuto turned in a half-circle and pressed Akaashi’s back against the wall, his grip firm on Akaashi’s thighs. He sucked Akaashi’s bottom lip into his mouth, rolled it gently between his teeth, and smoothed it over with his tongue.

Akaashi made a sound that was almost a whimper. He ran his hands up the bulging muscles of Bokuto’s arms and then sank his fingers into the back of Bokuto’s hair, coaxing him closer, kissing him like the contact was the only thing keeping him alive.

Bokuto moved his lips away from Akaashi’s and dragged them along his jaw, dipping down to spread kisses across his neck. Akaashi threw his head back and ignored the dull impact of his skull against the wall. Bokuto’s name tripped between his lips, somewhere between a whisper and a prayer. Bokuto muffled a noise into Akaashi’s neck and sucked gently at his skin.

“Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi, almost reverently. “Yes, Bokuto-san…”

Bokuto tightened his grip and rolled his hips into Akaashi’s, a single, fluid motion.

Akaashi bit his lip but a moan still slipped through. It was a high, desperate sound that he’d never made before.

He realized, from the flush of heat between his legs, that he was hard. That didn’t happen very often. He’d thought his job had nearly desensitized him to arousal.

Bokuto, it seemed, was his exception to everything.

Akaashi leaned forward and said, breath hot in Bokuto’s ear, “Carry me to bed.”

He felt Bokuto’s full-body shudder, and it heated him down to his core. Bokuto shifted his grip and walked Akaashi out of the room, not sagging even a little beneath his weight. He was strong and perfect and Akaashi had never wanted anyone more.

When they reached the bed Akaashi expected to be tossed, but then reminded himself that this was Bokuto, and he’d decided to stop underestimating Bokuto.

Proving him right, Bokuto crawled onto the bed on his knees before laying Akaashi down on his back, all gentle touches and careful movements that both defied and complemented Bokuto’s heat of only a moment before.

Akaashi tried to drag him back down but Bokuto resisted, his broad shoulders unmoving beneath Akaashi’s clawing hands.

“Wait,” said Bokuto. His voice was wrecked, and just the sound of it made Akaashi shiver. Bokuto stared down at him with blown pupils, his golden irises only a slim ring, nearly eaten away. “I need to make sure… I mean, I don’t want to rush this, and I like you, and I don’t want you to think-”

“I know,” said Akaashi. His voice was even rougher than Bokuto’s. “I know, I know, _I know_. I want this. I want _you_. Please, Bokuto-san, _please_.”

He’d been trying to break Bokuto’s resolve, and he succeeded.

Bokuto’s mouth crashed against his, hungry and desperate, and he tasted like all of the wet dreams Akaashi had never had.

Akaashi dragged his hands down Bokuto’s shoulders to the small of his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath his fingers. Bokuto was warm and sturdy, strong enough to easily hurt Akaashi if he decided to.

But he wouldn’t, and Akaashi knew that as fact, and it only made him want Bokuto more.

Akaashi pulled at the hem of Bokuto’s shirt and he seemed to get the message. He sat up on his heels, still straddling Akaashi, and pulled his shirt off in one quick sweep. His torso was chiseled like that of a god. Akaashi felt his way up Bokuto’s abs, to his chest, to the bulk of his shoulders. 

He was perfect. He was absolutely perfect in every way and Akaashi didn’t know how he’d done anything to deserve him.

When Bokuto worked Akaashi’s shirt off he sat back and looked at him the same way, as if Akaashi was something to be admired. 

Akaashi’s face flamed and he pulled Bokuto back down for a kiss to stop the staring.

Bokuto slipped away from his mouth to trail more kisses down his neck, and then further. He dragged his lips across Akaashi’s collarbone, mouthed down his chest, and left a line of kisses over his stomach.

Akaashi burned beneath the attention, and by the time Bokuto started pulling at the button of his jeans, Akaashi was surprised he hadn’t yet combusted.

Bokuto paused with Akaashi’s zipper pinched between his fingers, breath gusting between his parted lips. “Are you sure?” he said, focusing dilated eyes on Akaashi’s face.

Akaashi didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Bokuto-san. I am very, very sure.”

Bokuto dragged the zipper down and Akaashi’s pants followed. 

Akaashi wasn’t shy about nudity. He’d long ago lost count of the number of men who had seen him naked. 

Still, when Bokuto slowly, reverently pulled at his underwear, he felt a quick jolt of apprehension. 

Then he was laid bare, and Bokuto still looked at him as if he was flawless. 

“Akaashi,” he breathed, the whisper almost silent. He shifted down between Akaashi’s knees and pressed a kiss to the head of his erection, following it with wetter, sloppier kisses down to the base and back again. 

Akaashi pressed a hand over his mouth to hold in the foreign sounds that built in his throat, threatening to spill into the air between them.

Bokuto’s hands smoothed up Akaashi’s thighs as he pulled Akaashi into his mouth, his lips tight around Akaashi’s length, slowly working him in deeper.

Akaashi couldn’t hold back a high-pitched keen when Bokuto hollowed his cheeks and _sucked_ , hard. Akaashi’s hips bucked but Bokuto’s firm grip held him in place. He peered up at Akaashi, mouth still full, eyes glazed with lust.

He raised his head, a string of saliva trailing from his lips. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “I want to hear you, ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi shook his head, but his resolve was plowed away when Bokuto started bobbing his head, his tongue pressing against the underside of his length. 

Akaashi moaned, and it was so much different than the sounds he’d practiced for his clients. It was real, and raw, and only for Bokuto.

Bokuto pulled off, left a mess of licks and kisses along his hipbone, and sat up between Akaashi’s legs. “Do you have lube?” 

Akaashi reached for the nightstand an arm’s length away but Bokuto leaned over to get it for him. He picked it out of the drawer, kept searching, and asked, “What about condoms?”

Akaashi shook his head. “Don’t need it,” he said hoarsely. “I get tested twice a month. I’m clean.”

“That’s not why I asked,” said Bokuto. He shifted back into place, looked at the lube in his hand, and then up at Akaashi. “Do you want me to do it? Or do you want to do me instead?”

It took Akaashi a moment to realize what he was asking because the question was so unexpected. When it clicked into place he felt another surge of hot affection, this one possibly stronger than the last.

“You can do it, Bokuto-san,” he said. 

“Are you sure? ‘Cause if you’d rather-”

“I’m sure,” said Akaashi. “Please.”

Bokuto stretched up to kiss him, and this time when their lips met it was slower, more controlled, but with the same tier of intensity.

When Bokuto knelt between his knees again, Akaashi expected to be anxious. He always prepared himself. It wasn’t something that the clients were interested in. He wasn’t used to having someone do it for him, to have someone else’s fingers in him.

He should have been anxious, but he felt nothing but suffocating _want_ as Bokuto pressed against him.

Bokuto mouthed at the inside of his thigh, his breath hot against Akaashi’s skin as he pushed a finger inside so, so slowly. It was too slow, almost agonizing, but Akaashi devoted every dragging second to memory. 

He was good at forgetting, but he was definitely going to remember this.

Soon Bokuto was two fingers in and his tongue was sweeping over Akaashi’s other thigh. Three fingers in and he was licking along Akaashi’s length, dipping down to suck gently at his balls, pulling sounds out of Akaashi that he didn’t even know he was capable of.

“That’s good,” said Akaashi, forcing the words through his gasps. “Please stop, please just… I need you, Bokuto-san.”

Either Bokuto sensed his desperation or he was just as far gone as Akaashi, because for once, he didn’t argue. He removed his fingers and stroked them along his own dick, slicking himself up as he crawled over Akaashi and again sealed their lips together.

Akaashi moaned into Bokuto’s mouth as he shifted his hips, rubbing their lengths together. It was good, _so_ good, but it wasn’t enough.

“Okay,” said Bokuto, and it seemed he was speaking to himself just as much as Akaashi. He kissed Akaashi again, his lips scalding, and repeated, “Okay. Tell me if I do something wrong.”

Akaashi was fairly certain that Bokuto was incapable of doing anything wrong. Bokuto was _perfect_.

Akaashi spread his knees as Bokuto lined himself up, using one hand to guide himself in, bracing the other on the mattress near Akaashi’s head to hold himself upright. He pressed in slowly, so slowly that it was torturous. Akaashi bit down on a whine and watched Bokuto’s face contort with extreme concentration. 

He was probably thinking about being gentle. He was probably thinking of all the potential ways that he could hurt Akaashi.

Akaashi dug his heels into the mattress and thrust his hips upward, pushing Bokuto the rest of the way in. 

The feeling of being filled wasn’t foreign to him. The sensations of Bokuto – the scent of his skin, the sound of him panting into Akaashi’s ear, the heat of his body that was like a forest fire – those were new, and they were intoxicating.

“’Kaashi,” said Bokuto, the word muffled by Akaashi’s shoulder. 

Akaashi wrapped his legs around Bokuto, crossed his ankles at his lower back, and coaxed him closer. He slid in one last centimeter and they both gasped. 

Bokuto turned his head and nosed at Akaashi’s neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses and sucking lightly at the skin. Akaashi shuddered and gripped Bokuto’s shoulders, the muscles hard beneath his palms. 

“Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi, the name more of a gasp than actual speech. “Move. _Please_ move.”

Bokuto left a few more kisses and then pushed himself up on his elbows, hovering over Akaashi, staring down at him with a swirl of fire and fondness that made Akaashi’s breath catch.

He looked like he wanted to say something. His mouth was open, the words already on his tongue, but instead he leaned in and kissed Akaashi again, gentle, lips pliant.

His hips moved beneath the weight of Akaashi’s legs, sliding back, dragging out slowly. Then he pushed back in, steady but solid, and Akaashi’s moan was lost somewhere in Bokuto’s mouth.

Bokuto set a slow, smooth rhythm. He rolled forward and back, in and out, his hips moving like the tide. 

Akaashi closed his eyes and just let himself _feel_. 

Sex wasn’t a novelty for him. Nothing about it would ever be new or exciting. He’d done this more times than he could remember, with more men than he could count.

But it had never felt like _this_.

“’Kaashi.” Bokuto dipped his head and spread kisses along Akaashi’s collarbone, working his way up to his jaw and back to his mouth. “I… You’re so beautiful, ‘Kaashi.” 

Akaashi felt heat burn the backs of his eyes, and it wasn’t the same heat that scalded him with each press of Bokuto’s lips. He fought the tears because if he cried, Bokuto would worry. He would think he was doing something wrong, when really he was doing everything just right. Bokuto always did everything right, and Akaashi didn’t know how he was good enough for him.

Bokuto kept his pace, slow and steady and sensual, and despite the gentleness, Akaashi felt heat curling in his lower body. He pressed his hips up to meet Bokuto’s, maneuvering for a deeper angle, and nearly sobbed when Bokuto thrust into him just right. 

“Bokuto-san,” he said. It was almost a whimper. “Bokuto-san, please…”

Bokuto didn’t speed up, but he did put a little more force behind his thrusts. Akaashi threw his head back and buried his hands in Bokuto’s hair, because if he didn’t hold onto something, he was sure he would float away.

Bokuto slipped a hand between them and wrapped his fingers around Akaashi’s length, drips of precome smoothing the slide of flesh on flesh. He worked Akaashi slowly, in time with his own thrusts. 

Akaashi didn’t last long after that. It was too much at once, too much of _Bokuto_. He tried not to cry out as he came, but then Bokuto’s lips were against his again, coaxing his mouth open, swallowing the small, broken cries from Akaashi’s throat. 

Akaashi’s come was hot on his stomach, but Bokuto was still hotter. He’d stopped moving when Akaashi had started drifting down from his orgasm, though he was still hard inside of Akaashi, still burning.

Akaashi took a few seconds to catch his breath. His throat was tight and his face was too warm. He wasn’t sure why until Bokuto brushed a thumb over his cheek, smearing the hot tears that leaked from his eyes. 

He expected Bokuto to say something, to ask if he was okay, but Bokuto just ducked his head and kissed him, feather-light. 

Akaashi blinked the heat out of his eyes, took a few more steadying breaths, and said, “Roll over, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto did so obediently and Akaashi clung to him as he moved, keeping them connected, straddling Bokuto when his back was flat against the mattress.

Akaashi sat back on his heels, his knees braced on either side of Bokuto’s hips. For a few racing heartbeats he simply looked at him. Bokuto’s arms were splayed at his sides, his head back against the mattress, watching Akashi through hooded, blown-out eyes. He was completely pliant beneath Akaashi, completely trusting.

Akaashi smoothed his hands up Bokuto’s stomach, firm beneath his searching fingers. 

When they’d first met, Akaashi had been somewhat reluctant about the possibility of physical intimacy. He didn’t have an aversion to it, but he hadn’t particularly wanted it, either. It was as he’d told Bokuto before. He didn’t mind either way.

Now he could hardly remember what that indifference had felt like. He cherished the feeling of Bokuto underneath him, _inside_ him. He didn’t know how he’d done without this. He didn’t know if he would ever get enough of it.

Akaashi rolled his hips down, and he was still so oversensitive from his own release that it was almost painful. But Bokuto’s eyes fluttered closed and a shivering moan fell from his lips and Akaashi could die happy, now that he’d seen Bokuto like this, now that he’d been with him like this.

“’Kaashi,” mumbled Bokuto, his words a little clumsy. “You don’t have to… I can just-”

Akaashi pushed up on his knees, until Bokuto slid nearly out of him, and then dropped himself back down.

Bokuto bucked beneath him with a low cry, his fingers scrabbling at the sheets. 

“You took care of me,” said Akaashi, and he didn’t just mean the sex. Bokuto had stayed by his side at the bar, around his unfamiliar friends. He’d gotten Akaashi water because he knew he wouldn’t drink alcohol. He’d defended him against Kubo and brought him home because he’d known Akaashi wouldn’t want to stay. Even before that night he’d done so much for Akaashi, _so much_. “Now let me take care of you.”

Akaashi wasn’t familiar with relationships. He didn’t know how to treat people or how to deal with his own feelings.

But he did know how to do this.

Bokuto had gone slowly and so did he, lifting himself up and grinding back down, his breath leaving his lips in soft puffs. 

“ _Akaashi_ ,” said Bokuto, dragging the name in to a moan. His hips bucked a little as Akaashi pushed down, seeking more friction, seeking Bokuto’s release. Akaashi ground down a little harder and Bokuto sucked a breath through his teeth. He continued to watch Akaashi, the thin golden rings of his irises hyper-focused despite the haze of arousal. 

Bokuto peeled himself off of the mattress and sat up, sliding an arm behind Akaashi’s lower back to hold him steady. Akaashi took a moment to readjust before he started moving again, head lowered, Bokuto’s hair tickling against his jaw. 

Bokuto kissed whatever part of Akaashi he could reach; his stomach, his chest, his ribs. He muffled a moan into Akaashi’s skin and said, brokenly, “’Kaashi, I can’t… If you’re going to move…”

“I’m not,” said Akaashi. Bokuto tilted his head back to look at him and Akaashi hunched over to kiss him. “I’m not, Bokuto-san,” he said, the words whispered against Bokuto’s lips. “I want to feel you.”

Bokuto breathed a shuddering gasp and pressed his forehead to Akaashi’s chest. His grip around Akaashi’s back tightened, his body tensed beneath Akaashi’s hands, and he whispered Akaashi’s name like a prayer as he came.

Akaashi rode him through it, shivering as the heat filled him.

When Bokuto finished, Akaashi pushed him onto his back and kissed him again, slow and sweet. Bokuto rolled them to the side and pulled Akaashi close, despite the sticky mess of Akaashi’s come smeared between them. 

“’Kaashi.” Bokuto’s eyes were slightly hooded but still bright, watching him with a depth of emotion that made Akaashi’s heart lurch.

Akaashi remembered what Kuroo had said at the club, under the influence of a few too many drinks.

_I think he loves you._

Akaashi ducked his head and nuzzled into Bokuto’s chest. He wondered if it was true. He wondered if he wanted it to be true.

“Was that… okay?” Bokuto said after a while. Akaashi felt the vibration of his voice. “I mean, if I should’ve done something different-”

“Please stop talking, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto stopped, and although Akaashi’s eyes were closed, he still knew that Bokuto had that worried expression on his face. His eyebrows would sink a little lower, lip out slightly, eyes large and fretful.

Akaashi pulled back to look at him and found the exact expression that he’d expected.

“Did I not seem to be enjoying myself?”

“Well yeah, but…”

“It was good. It was great. You’re great, Bokuto-san. Thank you.”

Bokuto blinked at him. “For what?”

“For everything. You’ve done a great deal for me. I’m lucky to have you.”

Bokuto’s cheeks exploded in a burst of scarlet. His face went slack, but gradually a grin overtook his shock. He pulled Akaashi close again and nuzzled into the side of his hair. “No, ‘Kaashi. I’m lucky to have _you_.”

Akaashi could have argued, but he was becoming increasingly aware of the drying mess caked between them. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I really think we should shower now.” Bokuto pulled back a little and looked between them. “Oh. Right. Do you want me to wait, or…?”

It took an extreme effort of will for Akaashi not to roll his eyes. “Bokuto-san, you were just inside me. I don’t think sharing my shower is going to cross any lines.”

Bokuto smiled and leaned in for another kiss. Akaashi melted into him, for a moment forgetting the sticky mess, forgetting everything that existed outside of Bokuto’s heat and strength.

It was a while before they actually made it to the shower.


	11. Chapter 11

Akaashi had never been as reluctant to go to work as he was the following night.

Bokuto’s team had another match, this one on the opposite side of the city. Even if it had been at the local university, Akaashi wouldn’t have been able to go. He’d gotten trouble enough for being late the last time. He knew there would be consequences if it happened again. 

Bokuto didn’t try and make him feel bad about not attending. He hadn’t even asked Akaashi if he was coming because he already knew.

That didn’t stop Akaashi from feeling guilty.

He arrived at Fukurodani only five minutes before his first appointment because he’d been dragging his feet at his apartment, dreading the moment when he had to leave. He couldn’t stop thinking about Bokuto, and he’d already discovered that wasn’t a good mindset to have while he was working. 

He dropped off his belongings in his assigned locker, headed upstairs, and almost ran directly into Konoha in his haste to get to room eight.

“I’m sorry, Konoha-san,” said Akaashi. He was a dash out of breath from sprinting up the stairs. 

“That’s okay,” said Konoha. He raised an eyebrow. “You alright, Akaashi? You look a little… _off_.”

“I’m fine. I’m just running behind. Could you hold my appointment for a few minutes while I get ready?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Konoha. He still eyed Akaashi strangely. “You sure you’re okay?”

Akaashi nodded and stepped past him. “Yes. Thank you, Konoha-san.”

Akaashi rushed to room eight and ducked inside. With Konoha stalling, he would possibly have just enough time to prep himself and squeeze into the outfit that his first client preferred. 

He’d just zipped up when there was a knock at the door, signaling the client’s arrival, and he breathed a relieved sigh.

That relief didn’t last very long.

It was not a good night for Akaashi.

There wasn’t anything particularly bad about it. There was certainly nothing traumatizing like the incident with Kubo.

It was just… _uncomfortable_.

Akaashi had been seeing his first client for about six months. He always wanted the same thing, and that night was no exception. Still, it felt different somehow. 

Akaashi pushed his hips back and buried his face in the sheets, grateful that Miyamoto liked to have him face-down. He was glad that he didn’t have to control his expression because he felt the deep crease between his brows, carved there by the discomfort that he couldn’t quite pin down.

There was nothing different. There was no reason for him to feel this way.

After Miyamoto’s appointment was Takeuchi, and he was a little more difficult to handle because Akaashi had to face him during the session. Akaashi devoted so much concentration to keeping his face neutral that he hardly even paid attention to what he was doing. He was certain that Takeuchi noticed, but he just gave Akaashi an occasional glance and said nothing.

Akaashi managed to steal a break after that. He snuck out the back door and sat on his regular spot on the stoop, sucking on a cigarette. The ashy taste in his mouth was comforting, but it didn’t erase his unease. Something was off, and he knew it, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He’d only been sitting there for two minutes when the door hinges creaked and Konoha joined him.

Akaashi heaved a smoky sigh and offered his cigarette to Konoha. Surprisingly it was accepted, and Konoha took a short puff before handing it back. 

“What’s going on?” said Konoha. 

Akaashi opened his mouth to say _nothing_ , but Konoha’s sharp look brought him up short.

“I don’t know,” said Akaashi instead. He took another drag. “I’m just having an off night. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“If you don’t know what’s wrong then how do you know it’ll go away?”

Akaashi didn’t reply. He didn’t have an answer for that.

Konoha looked out across the street. It was deserted, but Akaashi could clearly remember a time in the not-so-distant past when a pair of unruly college kids had sauntered by while he’d been sitting in that same spot. One of them was a bundle of bad hair and snarky comments. The other was the personification of the sun.

“How’s it going with the boyfriend?” said Konoha. His tone was different, more careful. 

“Good,” said Akaashi. Then he amended that to, “Great, actually. He’s great.”

“That’s good. I figured he was going to turn out to be a creep,” said Konoha. “He doesn’t exactly seem normal, you know?”

“Bokuto-san isn’t exactly normal,” said Akaashi fondly. “He’s a good person, though. Better than I deserve.”

Konoha mumbled something under his breath that Akaashi didn’t catch. Then he said, more clearly, “Has he told you to quit your job yet?”

Akaashi shook his head. “Bokuto-san would never tell me to do anything. The job doesn’t seem to bother him. He was worried about the choking incident but I convinced him it was fine.”

Konoha’s stare was flat. “It wasn’t fine.”

“It wasn’t,” Akaashi agreed, “but it is now.” Especially since Kubo probably had a broken nose. 

Konoha was quiet for a minute. He seemed to be struggling with his words. “So have you guys…” he trailed off, frowning.

Akaashi knew what he meant. “Yes.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick,” said Konoha, “but… do you think that’s all he wants? The sex, I mean. If he’s using you-”

“He isn’t,” said Akaashi. He didn’t raise his voice but the snap of his words brought Konoha to silence. “Bokuto-san wouldn’t do that. Besides, we’ve been seeing each other for a while. We weren’t physically intimate until last night.”

Konoha blinked. He was clearly surprised. “Oh. Well, uh… how was it?”

Akaashi felt his mouth twitch into a near smile. “It was nice.”

They were quiet for a few minutes. Akaashi finished his cigarette and tapped out one more. 

“Is that what’s wrong, then?” Konoha finally said. He leaned back on his arms, palms flat against the concrete stoop. “Is that why you’re struggling tonight?”

Akaashi blew out a plume of smoke and looked at him. “What?”

“If your first time with him was last night,” said Konoha, “and you immediately have to come here and do this, it makes sense it’s messing with you.”

Akaashi shook his head. “It’s not relevant, Konoha-san. It’s different.”

Konoha looked unconvinced, but didn’t argue. “Whatever you say, Akaashi. You’ve got about ten minutes until your next one, alright?”

“I’ll be ready. Thank you, Konoha-san.”

Konoha tipped him a nod before slipping back into the building.

Akaashi closed his eyes and thought about Bokuto. It was all he’d been able to think about for the past twenty-four hours, and Konoha hadn’t helped. 

That wasn’t what was wrong with Akaashi’s work performance, though. It couldn’t be. It was just an off night. Like he’d told Konoha, everything would be fine by the next day. 

He put out his cigarette, popped a breath strip onto his tongue, and began to mentally prepare himself for his next client.

He made it through the night without further incident, though the bone-deep feeling of discomfort persisted. When he’d finished with his last client he was so relieved that he almost sprinted out of the room before he’d even wrapped himself in a robe.

He showered, gathered his belongings, and was halfway to the lobby when Yukie stopped him.

“Hey, Leo,” she said. Her smile softened her entire face. Akaashi understood why Konoha liked her. Yukie was always kind and bright, unlike some of his other female coworkers. “Are you doing okay? Konoha said you were feeling a little under the weather.”

“I’m fine,” said Akaashi. “Thank you for your concern.”

Her smile morphed into a frown, but her face was still gentle. “Just take care of yourself, okay? If you need anything at all let us know.”

He wasn’t certain if by “us” she meant herself and Konoha, but Akaashi hoped so. If Yukie was referring to the two of them as a pair then it meant Konoha had made some progress. 

“By the way,” said Yukie, patting Akaashi on the shoulder, “your bright-eyed boyfriend is out in the lobby waiting for you. I thought he was creepy at first but now he seems kind of okay.”

Akaashi didn’t take offense to that. In fact, he barely heard anything after “waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Yukie-san,” he said, even as he moved away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Leo!”

Akaashi hustled through the building and burst into the lobby, chest heavy with the weight of expectation. 

Bokuto stood from one of the chairs, his face lighting up as he spotted Akaashi. His hair was down and appeared damp. He must have showered just before coming over. “Hey, ‘Kaashi!” 

Akaashi didn’t say anything in return. He strode across the room and launched himself at Bokuto, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face against a broad shoulder. 

Bokuto returned the embrace and nuzzled against the side of Akaashi’s head. Akaashi’s eyes were squeezed shut because suddenly he felt an insane urge to cry.

“I missed you, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi, the words mumbled into Bokuto’s shirt.

“I missed you too, ‘Kaashi!” said Bokuto, giving him a light squeeze.

“You didn’t have to come here. You should be getting some rest.”

Bokuto shrugged. “I was too hyped up after the game anyway.”

Akaashi peeked up at him. Bokuto was grinning, but he didn’t say anything more.

Akaashi gave in and asked, although the answer was already obvious. “Did you win?”

“Yeah, it was awesome! I got so many good spikes in! They were a really good team, too. They have these twins who are, like, so in sync that I think they can read each other’s minds. And halfway through the first set, they…” He trailed off and looked at something over Akaashi’s shoulder. 

Akaashi glanced back to find Kaori watching them from behind the desk, her face a mask of polite interest.

“Can I walk you home?” said Bokuto, the words leaving him in a rush. He looked a little anxious as he waited for Akaashi’s reply, as if he actually thought there was a chance that he would be turned down.

“Of course, Bokuto-san.” He waved at Kaori and started toward the door. 

“Bye, Leo!” said Kaori, waving. “Bye, Leo’s friend!”

Bokuto returned the wave, grinning widely. Then he and Akaashi were on the sidewalk, headed east toward Akaashi’s apartment. They reached for each other’s hands in the same instant and Akaashi smiled to himself.

“What were you saying before, Bokuto-san?”

“Oh, yeah!” said Bokuto. His eyes lit up like twin stars. “So we were ten points into the first set, right? And they were ahead by two points, so we were kind of stressing out, you know? So Kuroo…”

He kept talking, his voice bright and sweet in the late night air. Akaashi rubbed a thumb over Bokuto’s wrist and listened, absorbing every excited word that came out of his mouth.

He knew he was going to hear a play-by-play of the game all the way home, and he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Things at work hadn’t gone so well, but it was just a strange night. It would pass. Now that he was with Bokuto, everything else seemed to pale in comparison. Things would go back to normal by his next shift. 

Everything would be fine by the next day.  
  
  
  
  
Everything was not fine by the next day.

In fact, if anything, it was worse.

It shouldn’t have been. His appointments for the night were all regular customers. He was familiar with who they were and what they liked and exactly what they expected of him.

The night should have gone by smoothly. 

Except Akaashi cringed every time someone touched him. 

It wasn’t that the clients were creepy. On the contrary, most of his regulars were decent people. They were polite and well-mannered and never tried to make him uncomfortable.

Still, when they touched his face or combed fingers through his hair or pressed their palms against his chest, it was all he could do to not flinch away.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he needed to get over it _fast_. 

He took a breath, leaned further into his client’s roaming hands, and put on his best mask.

Akaashi was well-practiced and convincing, and he made it to his last appointment of the night without spectacular incident.

The last client was Fujiwara, the man that Akaashi had ran into at Nekoma the first time that Bokuto had taken him to the bar. Akaashi had worried that Fujiwara would read too much into the extracurricular meeting, but he’d only mentioned in passing that it was nice to have seen Akaashi out and left it at that.

He was a decent man, one that Akaashi had serviced a number of times without a single problem. Yet he still had to actively prevent himself from cringing away when Fujiwara smoothed a hand along the line of his waist, admiring the smooth skin beneath.

“You doing okay, Leo?” said Fujiwara. His breath was a little short. He was already buried inside Akaashi, his thrusts slow and intermittent.

Fujiwara liked to take things at a slow pace. Akaashi generally didn’t mind – in fact, it was sometimes a relief compared to some of the more enthusiastic clients – but that night the constant press of skin against skin put him on edge.

“I’m fine, Fujiwara-san. How are you?”

“Good,” he said. He shifted a little and Akaashi felt the dampness of Fujiwara’s sweat against his hips. “How was your day?”

Akaashi bunched his fingers in the sheets to ground himself. Fujiwara also liked to talk, which normally didn’t bother him. 

But it was hard for him to answer any questions without thinking of Bokuto, and he was really trying not to think of Bokuto while another man was balls-deep inside of him. The true answer to Fujiwara’s question was, “It would have been better if I’d been able to go to my boyfriend’s apartment instead of coming here to sell myself for money.”

What Akaashi actually said was, “It was nice, Fujiwara-san, thank you for asking. How was yours?”

The polite conversation continued, gradually fracturing as Fujiwara started to speed up his pace. 

Akaashi was grateful. That meant he wouldn’t last much longer.

As Fujiwara rolled his hips, a hand rising between them to trace against Akaashi’s jaw, he said, “You’re so pretty, Leo. I’ve never – _ah_ – seen anyone like you.”

This wasn’t foreign territory. Fujiwara was always free with his compliments.

But usually Akaashi took them in stride instead of imagining similar words on Bokuto’s lips, words that made him feel warm instead of hollow.

_You’re so beautiful, ‘Kaashi._

He thought of different hands, touching him with a sense of reverence. He thought of broad shoulders and strong arms and eyes as bright as the sun.

Akaashi closed his eyes and let himself remember, just for a moment. 

Then someone spoke and the voice was _wrong_.

“Leo? Tell me you love me.”

Akaashi opened his eyes, breath catching in his throat.

The face looking down at him was too thin, the hair and eyes too dark. The voice was thready, like a mild wind would whisk it away. 

It was wrong. All of this was wrong. 

Akaashi tried to shake off the feeling and respond. This wasn’t anything new. Fujiwara liked to talk, and he liked Akaashi to talk in return. Fujiwara liked compliments and reassurances. He wanted to feel loved and appreciated, and Akaashi couldn’t fault him for that. Usually he was happy to accommodate.

“I…” 

The words stuck to Akaashi’s tongue. He swallowed and tried again, but it didn’t help.

It was only three words. It was meaningless. 

“Leo?” said Fujiwara. His pace faltered, brow creasing in concern. “Are you okay?”

Akaashi licked his lips and tried one more time. “I…”

He thought of Bokuto again, so vividly that it hurt.

He thought of Bokuto pressed against him like this, with such raw emotion in his eyes that it made Akaashi’s chest hurt. He thought of the way Bokuto looked at him, like he really thought Akaashi was something to be admired.

He thought of the words Kuroo had murmured to him in the club, nearly drowned by the beat of heavy bass:

_I think he loves you._

Akaashi didn’t know if Kuroo was right. It was very possible that he was, because Kuroo knew Bokuto better than anyone.

What Akaashi knew for sure, however, was that he definitely and desperately loved Bokuto Koutarou.

“I can’t,” said Akaashi. The words were choked.

Fujiwara’s eyes widened in alarm. “Leo?” he said. He drew back to give him some space. “What’s wrong? Did I-”

“I can’t,” Akaashi repeated. The syllables burned his tongue almost as hotly as the tears burned the corners of his eyes. “I can’t do this. I… I’m sorry, I just…”

A strangled sound curled from Akaashi’s throat and he barely recognized it as a sob. 

He rolled away from Fujiwara and stumbled off of the bed, his legs barely supporting him. 

“Leo!” said Fujiwara, the cry riddled with concern. “Please, if I did something wrong-”

“You didn’t,” croaked Akaashi. He staggered across the room and blindly grabbed a clean robe. “I’m sorry, Fujiwara-san, I really am.” He pulled the robe over himself and took a breath that burned. “I just… I can’t…”

His throat tightened and no more words squeezed through. Akaashi pressed a hand over his mouth to hold in the sobs and wrenched open the door.

He made it three steps before Konoha was there, hands tight on his shoulders, voice blurring in Akaashi’s ears.

He couldn’t make out half of what was said but he caught enough to answer with a shake of his head. “Konoha-san, I… He didn’t…” Akaashi took a breath and steadied himself just enough to form a full sentence. “Get him a refund. He didn’t do anything, I…”

That sound came from his throat again, tight and choked.

Konoha’s grip went tighter. “ _Akaashi_.”

Akaashi shook his head again and twisted to the side to free himself. He rushed down the hall before Konoha could stop him, distantly aware of his name being called.

There hadn’t been a single occasion during Akaashi’s employment with Fukurodani that he’d left without taking a shower. There were a lot of things that Akaashi had never done, and he seemed to be doing all of them in a single night.

He threw his robe on the floor, pulled his clothes on as quickly as possible, and left out the back door. If he went through the front then someone would ask where he was going. Someone would see him like this, in pathetic disarray.

He pulled up the hood of his jacket and walked with his head down.

When he reached his apartment he unlocked the door, stripped, and stepped into a scalding hot shower.

He stood beneath the spray for a few minutes, gritting his teeth against the burn, trying to get himself under control.

Then he slid down to sit on the shower floor and cried so hard that his chest hurt. The water mixed with his hot tears and he wondered if things would be easier if he just drowned there.

In the span of about thirty seconds, Akaashi Keiji had effectively torn his entire life to shreds.

He didn’t have much of a life to lose at present, but he did have a future. That future was dependant on him completing his degree, and going to law school, and becoming someone that mattered. That future required him to do whatever it took now in order to profit later.

That future had just gone dark, because he wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that Fukurodani might let him come back.

Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. He couldn’t do it anymore. Something had changed, and he couldn’t do it anymore.

He was going to have to drop out of school and get a full-time, low-salary job just to pay his bills, and he would accomplish nothing. 

He was going to turn out exactly as his parents had said.

The water went cold long before Akaashi realized it. When he did, he cut it off and dragged himself upright. His legs were shaking and his teeth clattered together, but he didn’t think it was from the chilled water. It was nerves. It was the uncertainty of the future closing in like hungry wolves. 

He dried himself off and sat on the closed toilet lid with his head in his hands. His wet hair dripped through his fingers. 

His chest still felt like it was going to burst, but he was no longer crying. There was nothing left to cry out. He was empty. He felt like someone had cut his throat and bled him dry.

His phone buzzed, signaling an incoming call. He looked over, gaze sluggish, at the jeans he’d discarded beside the sink. Without getting up he reached out, dragged them over, and plucked his phone out of the pocket.

Bokuto was calling. 

Akaashi stared at the screen, and he still felt hollow. 

When he answered, his voice was coarse. “Hello.”

“Akaashi!” said Bokuto. He was bright and excited, the polar opposite of the way Akaashi felt. “I stopped by to walk you home from work but they said you were already gone. You should’ve told me you were leaving early, we could’ve gotten dinner or something!”

Bokuto’s eagerness to spend time with him always left Akaashi feeling light. 

Now he felt nothing.

“So… do you want to do something?” said Bokuto, undeterred by Akaashi’s silence. “You can come over, or I can come over, or we can go somewhere. Whatever you want to do!”

“I don’t want to do anything, Bokuto-san.”

There was a beat of hesitation before Bokuto said, “Oh, umm, okay. Is it… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh. Well, umm…” Bokuto didn’t seem convinced, but he wasn’t going to argue, either. “What about tomorrow then? We could get brunch maybe, so we don’t have to get up too early. I know this place close to my apartment that-”

“No, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. His voice was flat, inflectionless. “I don’t want to see you.”

The words were cruel. Akaashi knew, yet he felt nothing. 

The silence on the other end of the line was the hush that followed a catastrophe. It was the moment in which everyone stared at the wreckage, wide-eyed, and tried to figure out what had gone wrong.

“Akaashi?” said Bokuto. His voice was quiet, a little broken. “Did I do something wrong?”

Akaashi should have felt guilty for making Bokuto sound that way. The day before, he would have died before he dealt that blow to Bokuto’s feelings.

But this wasn’t yesterday, and Akaashi was empty.

He ended the call and placed his phone on the sink before folding over again, palms pressed against his eyes so hard that white shapes burst behind his eyelids like static.

Bokuto _had_ done something wrong.

Bokuto had walked into Akaashi’s life, bright and beautiful and irresistible. He’d shown Akaashi kindness, and treated him with respect, and made him _want_. He’d made Akaashi fall in love with him.

Akaashi didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive him.

If Bokuto hadn’t come along, Akaashi would still be at Fukurodani, finishing up his shift. He wouldn’t have to worry about what was going to happen tomorrow, or the week after, or the month after. He wouldn’t have to face the reality of his future crumbling through his fingers, because his future would still be on the path that Akaashi had bitterly built.

This was Bokuto’s fault.

Somewhere past his hollowness, Akaashi knew he couldn’t blame Bokuto for his own decisions. Akaashi had fucked up, in more ways than one.

But at least since he was ruining his life, he’d done it properly and ruined his relationship with Bokuto, too.

Sometime later there was a knock on Akaashi’s door. It echoed through his apartment, and when he raised his head, his neck was stiff.

He didn’t think about who it was, because if he did, his first guess would be Bokuto.

He didn’t know if that would be good or bad.

His muscles ached in protest as he stood. He knelt to grab his damp towel from the floor and wrapped it around his hips as he padded out of the bathroom.

He didn’t check to see who it was, because he didn’t want to deal with the decision of whether or not to answer the door.

Instead he just pulled it open and found Konoha on the other side.

Konoha was unfazed by Akaashi’s state of undress. “Let me in.”

Akaashi didn’t immediately move. He stared back at Konoha, feeling absolutely nothing in response to his unexpected visit.

Then he stepped back and Konoha slipped into the apartment.

It was fortunate that Konoha had invited himself inside. If he’d asked Akaashi’s permission, Akaashi would have denied him.

“Put some clothes on,” said Konoha, as he plopped onto the middle cushion of Akaashi’s couch. “Let’s talk.”

Akaashi tried not to think about the night that Bokuto had stayed over and insisted on sleeping on the couch.

He tried not to think about Bokuto at all.

He turned away from Konoha and went into his room just long enough to dress in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. The bedroom door remained open as he changed. He wasn’t concerned about Konoha catching a flash of his nudity. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, and even if he hadn’t, Akaashi was fairly certain he didn’t have the capacity to feel anything resembling embarrassment or shame.

When he returned, Konoha gestured for him to sit on the couch. Akaashi did so because he didn’t really know what else to do.

“Your client was worried about you,” said Konoha. He gave Akaashi a side glance and then averted his gaze across the room. “He thought he’d done something to upset you.”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” said Konoha. “He told me what happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Except for you having a fucking breakdown.” Konoha pulled one of his knees up onto the couch and angled himself to face Akaashi. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

The corner of Konoha’s mouth pulled down into a frown. “This is about your boyfriend, right?”

Akaashi stared back at him. “No.”

“Akaashi, listen…”

“This isn’t about Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He looked down at his hands, his fingers twisted in his lap. “He probably isn’t my boyfriend anymore, anyway.”

The silence was so complete that the buzz of the refrigerator was nearly deafening.

“What?” said Konoha after a long pause. 

Akaashi exhaled a sigh. He was still numb. “I told him I don’t want to see him. It’s for the best.”

“Best for who?”

“For both of us, I think.”

“Akaashi,” said Konoha. His voice was calm, but the way his hands tightened into fists was not. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Akaashi said nothing.

“I’ve known you for almost a year,” said Konoha, speaking slowly, “and you’ve been miserable every single day. You hid it well, but I could still tell. The only time I’ve ever seen you look even halfway happy is when you talk about Bokuto. Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to throw that away.”

Akaashi continued to stare at his hands.

“I was skeptical about the guy at first – hell, I still am, a little – but that doesn’t matter. Every time you see him you fucking _glow_. Anyone can tell how you feel about him just by looking at you, and that’s impressive, because your face never fucking changes. You _love_ him, Akaashi. That’s why you ran out on your session, right? Because the guy wanted you to say you love him. And it didn’t feel right, because you don’t love _him_ , you love-”

“Konoha-san,” said Akaashi. “Please stop.”

“Why?” said Konoha. He sat a little straighter, his frustration evident in the rough edge of his voice. “It’s the truth, and you know it. It’s the same reason you had a hard time yesterday. You slept with Bokuto, so fucking all these other guys feels wrong now, doesn’t it? Because you never knew what it was like before, to have someone actually care about you while they fucked you. It was all about the sex, and now that you know the difference, you don’t want to do it anymore.”

“I want to do it,” said Akaashi. “I _need_ to do it. I need the money, I just… I couldn’t.”

The hollow feeling swelled until it clogged his throat. He swallowed a couple of times, trying to clear it, trying to _breathe_.

“It’s okay,” said Konoha. He shifted closer and wrapped an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders.

Every time someone had touched him that night he’d shrank away. But this was platonic. This was friendship. This was _Konoha_. 

Akaashi closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch.

“You know they’d take you back,” said Konoha after a while. “Fukurodani, I mean. You’re too valuable to them. Is that what you want?”

It was, and it wasn’t.

Akaashi wanted stability. He wanted a secure future. He’d always been willing to do whatever it took to achieve that, but now…

“Of course it’s what I want,” said Akaashi quietly, “but I don’t think I can do it.”

Konoha squeezed around his shoulders. “You don’t have to. I always told you that you were too good for this.”

Akaashi twisted his fingers together. “What about Yukie? Is she too good?”

Konoha didn’t immediately answer, and Akaashi thought maybe he’d overstepped a boundary.

“Yukie is too good for anything,” said Konoha, “including me. But she doesn’t mind the work. She’s suited for it, and that’s okay. She can do it and still be happy. You can’t, and that’s the difference. Trading sex for money works for some people, but it doesn’t for others. It’s not what’s best for you, Akaashi. It’s not going to make you happy.”

Konoha was right, and the raw truth of it was like a dagger in Akaashi’s chest. 

He’d never been happy at Fukurodani.

But he had been happy with Bokuto.

All at once, the numb hollowness was washed out by a tide of pain and guilt and regret. It hit Akaashi so hard that he doubled over, hands pressed over his face, breath trembling through his lips. 

Konoha’s hand was on his back, a spot of warmth between his shoulder blades.

“I fucked up,” said Akaashi, the words raw. “I really fucked up.”

Konoha sighed, and it sounded relieved. “It’s okay. You can fix it. Just call Bokuto and-”

Akaashi shook his head before Konoha finished the sentence. “It isn’t that easy. I can’t believe I said that to him. He thinks he did something wrong, he doesn’t…”

“Where’s your phone?”

Akaashi pointed vaguely toward the bathroom. The couch shifted as Konoha stood, and a moment later Akaashi’s cell was pressed into his hand. 

“Call him,” said Konoha. “He adores you. Something like this isn’t going to ruin the two of you.”

Akaashi stared down at his phone. He didn’t want to call, because enough time had passed for Bokuto’s hurt to fester into resentment. He couldn’t hear the same bitterness in Bokuto’s voice as Bokuto had heard in his. It would break him.

Konoha took the phone from his hand and made the call himself. When it connected, he placed it back into Akaashi’s palm.

Akaashi reflexively pressed the phone to his ear, eyes closed and stomach in knots. He was scared of what he would hear when Bokuto answered, scared that it was already too late.

What was even scarier, though, was that Bokuto didn’t pick up at all, no matter how many times Akaashi called.


	12. Chapter 12

Akaashi didn’t sleep, which wasn’t surprising.

The surprising thing was that Konoha didn’t sleep, either.

They sat on the couch together all night, pretending to watch a late-night talk show that Konoha had chosen. He’d tried to convince Akaashi to go to Bokuto’s apartment, but he’d repeatedly refused.

If Bokuto didn’t want to talk to him, Akaashi wasn’t going to make it uncomfortable by showing up at his door. He didn’t deserve to see Bokuto after he’d been so cruel.

The stillness of the early morning eventually dissolved into the muffled sounds of Akaashi’s neighbors stirring. The person in the apartment above him always thumped when they got out of bed, but it was the only sound he ever heard from them. The neighbors on the left habitually slammed their cabinet doors too hard. Sometimes the neighbor on the right did something that sounded like banging his head against the wall, though there was likely a more mundane reason for the noise.

Akaashi wondered if any of those neighbors had heard the sounds that Bokuto had dragged out of him the night they’d slept together.

He wondered if Bokuto would ever touch him again.

Sometime around seven a.m., Konoha had finally dozed off against the arm of the couch. Akaashi wished he’d gone home and gotten some sleep, but at the same time he was relieved that he hadn’t been alone. 

Konoha’s phone buzzed and Akaashi wondered if he should decline the call so it wouldn’t wake him.

Then he realized it was his own cellphone buzzing on the couch beside him, not Konoha’s.

Akaashi’s heart leapt into his throat before he registered the identity of the caller. It was an unfamiliar number; definitely not Bokuto.

Akaashi picked it up and walked carefully into his bedroom, nudging the door closed so he wouldn’t disturb Konoha.

“Hello?”

“Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Kuroo.”

Akaashi’s heart stuttered.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” said Kuroo, “but would you mind telling me what the actual fuck you said to Bokuto last night?”

All of the breath left Akaashi’s lungs. He took the two steps to the bed and barely made it before his legs gave and he fell onto the mattress. “Is he okay?”

“That’s a subjective question,” said Kuroo. “But no, he’s not okay, and the idiot won’t talk to me. Did something happen?”

Akaashi’s mouth was so dry that he was surprised to find he could still speak. “I tried to call him.”

“He’s not exactly in the mood to take phone calls,” said Kuroo. “He said he’s not even going to practice this morning. Do you know the last time he missed practice?” He didn’t wait for Akaashi to answer. “Never. He’s never missed.”

“I…” Akaashi didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t as if he could defend himself, because there was nothing to defend. This was his fault.

“I’m guessing he made you mad,” said Kuroo. “Did he do something stupid? You know he didn’t really mean it, whatever it was.”

“Bokuto-san didn’t do anything stupid,” said Akaashi. “He’s never done anything stupid, he…” _He’s perfect_. “I’m the one who’s stupid.”

There was a beat of silence, and then: “Akaashi? Are _you_ okay?”

“Can I come over?” said Akaashi. “Is he… Do you think he’ll talk to me?”

“It’s worth a try,” said Kuroo. “He sure isn’t going to talk to me.”

“Okay,” said Akaashi. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Thank you, Kuroo-san.”

He ended the call, changed clothes, and stepped out of his bedroom to find Konoha watching him through heavy eyes. He looked Akaashi up and down and gave a tired, lopsided smile. “About time. I told you to go over there last night.”

Akaashi ignored him and moved to the door to slip on his shoes. “Feel free to stay as long as you’d like, Konoha-san. Just please lock up.”

Konoha said something else, and it was probably sarcastic, but Akaashi didn’t register it. He paused in the doorway, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Then he said over his shoulder, “Thank you, Konoha-san.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go get your man.”

It only took him twenty minutes to get there, and it wasn’t until he was climbing the steps of the apartment complex, too out of breath, that he realized he’d been walking so quickly that it had nearly been a run.

He took a moment outside of Bokuto’s door to collect himself. He’d tried to piece together a proper apology on the way there, but came up short. There was no reasonable explanation for the way he’d treated Bokuto. There was no way to justify it. 

Akaashi was terrible, and there was no reason for Bokuto to forgive him.

He knocked on the door and Kuroo opened it almost immediately.

“Hey,” said Kuroo. He studied Akaashi with a mix of concern and suspicion. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you, Kuroo-san.”

“Did you sleep?”

“No.”

Kuroo frowned at him, then stepped back and allowed Akaashi inside. The apartment looked just as he remembered it. There was no sign of Bokuto.

“Must’ve been something bad, huh?” said Kuroo. It was a statement, not a question. Even if he was curious, he wasn’t prying for information. “I haven’t seen Bokuto that torn up in a long time. Since high school, probably.”

Hot guilt surged in Akaashi’s stomach. He tasted it on the back of his tongue like bile. “I messed up.”

Kuroo raised a brow but said nothing.

“Where is he?” said Akaashi. He glanced around the apartment, to avoid the weight of Kuroo’s gaze.

“He’s locked up in his room. Hasn’t come out since last night.”

Akaashi brushed past him and walked to Bokuto’s bedroom door with more confidence than he actually felt. He raised his hand to knock, and paused before his knuckles touched the wood. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. 

He didn’t know what he was going to do if Bokuto told him to go away. It was nothing he didn’t deserve, but the thought alone was enough to make him want to curl up in the corner and cry. 

He wouldn’t do that, though. He would respect Bokuto’s wishes and leave, and hope that Bokuto met someone else that made him happy.

Someone who would treat him better than Akaashi had.

He rapped on the door, but it sounded distant, like it was floating to him through a rush of water.

Bokuto’s voice, however, was so close that it made Akaashi’s chest hurt.

“I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” The words were scratchy and muffled. “Leave me alone, Kuroo.”

Akaashi swallowed past the lump in his throat. He pressed his palm against the door, fingers splayed against the cool wood. “It’s me, Bokuto-san.”

There was silence, so heavy that Akaashi felt he would sink right through the floor.

“I can’t do this right now, ‘Kaashi. I’m sorry.”

Akaashi closed his eyes against the sting. His forehead thudded against the door. “Please don’t apologize, Bokuto-san. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Bokuto didn’t say anything. Akaashi wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next.

“Apologize or something,” whispered Kuroo. “God, you’re both idiots.”

Akaashi didn’t take that to heart. 

“Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He had to clear his throat before he could continue. “I’m sorry for what I said last night. I didn’t mean it. I… of course I want to see you. You mean very much to me.”

There was a muted sound from beyond the door, a rustling that was probably Bokuto rolling over. Still he didn’t speak.

“Something happened at work,” said Akaashi. He could at least explain himself, even if it was no excuse for his behavior. “I couldn’t… I mean, I didn’t…” He breathed a sigh in a failed attempt to release some of his tension. “I lost my job last night. It was my own fault, but I wanted to blame someone, so I blamed you. I apologize, Bokuto-san. It wasn’t fair to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He felt Kuroo staring at him. It was probably narrow judgment, maybe a touch of anger that Akaashi would take out his frustrations on Bokuto. 

He deserved any judgment that Kuroo wanted to dish out.

There was another shuffle from inside the room, a heavy thump. Then the doorknob rattled and Akaashi took a quick, startled step back.

The door cracked open to reveal half of Bokuto’s face.

His hair was a mess, and the dark half-moon beneath Bokuto’s dull golden eye almost looked like a bruise.

Akaashi clearly wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept.

“You lost your job?” said Bokuto. His voice was raspy. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Even in this state, even when Akaashi had obliterated his feelings the night before, Bokuto was still concerned.

Akaashi should just walk away now. There was no way that he could ever deserve anyone like Bokuto Koutarou.

“Yes,” said Akaashi. His voice broke on the single syllable. He cleared his throat and kept talking. “I’m fine now. I was just upset because I didn’t know what I was going to do. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but I do know that whatever it is, I want you to be there, too. If… If you still want to be. After the way I treated you I don’t deserve for you to even speak to me. It was cruel. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations on you and I deeply apologize, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto just stared at him with that single, solemn eye. 

“Did you get fired?” said Kuroo, from somewhere behind him. 

“No. I walked out.”

“Why?”

He felt as if Bokuto’s eye was drilling straight through him. Akaashi dropped his gaze to the floor. “I can’t do it anymore.” The familiar tightness returned to his throat and heat seared behind his eyes. He tried to blink it away, but when he thought of Bokuto, of how he’d hurt him, it only burned more hotly. “I just… I _can’t_.” His voice broke, and he bit his lip to keep from crying. He couldn’t, not like this, not when he was here to apologize.

After the way he'd treated Bokuto, Akaashi didn't deserve to cry.

“Akaashi.”

That voice was close, and it wasn’t Kuroo’s.

Bokuto’s arms were around him, pulling him against a broad chest, wrapping him in warmth. Akaashi clutched at Bokuto’s shirt and leaned into him, his throat so full of stifled sobs that he couldn’t speak. 

“It’s okay,” said Bokuto, offering the comfort that Akaashi had come there to give. “Everything’s okay, ‘Kaashi.”

He shook his head, distantly aware that his eyes were leaving wet spots on the shoulder of Bokuto’s shirt. “It’s not. I can’t make the same money doing anything else. I’ll have to quit school and work full-time. I won’t get to go to law school, I won’t…”

He swallowed back a sob, but just barely. The force of it shook his shoulders, and Bokuto hugged him more tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words bleeding into Bokuto’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Bokuto. “You’re fine. Come here, just… Kuroo, will you…?”

“Yeah, got it,” said Kuroo. 

Bokuto pulled Akaashi forward and he went without resistance. He was nudged onto the bed and he went willingly, collapsing into the mess of sheets that smelled of Bokuto.

Soon enough the source of the scent was curled up alongside him, Bokuto’s heat pressed into his back. A strong arm curled around Akaashi’s waist and tugged him close.

“I’m sorry,” said Akaashi, the words choked. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” said Bokuto. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here, ‘Kaashi. I thought you didn’t want me anymore. I thought-”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi squirmed in his grip and turned himself to his other side, so he could look up at Bokuto’s weary face. “Please never think that. I’ll always want you, I…” The words were there, on the tip of his tongue. They were there, and they were true, and he was dying to say them. 

Bokuto’s eyes were wide and bright and innocent, and ringed by shadows that were Akaashi’s fault. 

Even after Akaashi had hurt him, even after Akaashi had blamed him for things that weren’t his fault, the only thing that he saw reflected in Bokuto’s eyes was adoration.

Bokuto still wanted him. Even after all that, after all that Akaashi had done in the past, everything that Akaashi was...

Akaashi didn’t deserve him. He would never deserve him, but still…

“I love you,” he said. The words were heavy between them, but Akaashi wouldn’t have taken them back for anything. Bokuto’s face went blank, his eyes so wide that it should have been comical. “I’m sorry for last night,” said Akaashi, “and I promise I’ll never treat you like that again. I love you, Bokuto-san.”

“Are you sure?” said Bokuto, the words edged with shock. “You don’t have to say that if you don’t mean it. I just want you to be okay. I just want-”

“I mean it. I really mean it.”

Bokuto’s eyes were still wide but they softened, golden irises smoldering. “Akaashi.” He slipped an arm around Akaashi’s waist and shifted closer, so close that Akaashi felt Bokuto’s exhales against his lips. “You know I love you too, right? I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. You’re just so… so _perfect_ , and so… so _Akaashi_.”

Despite himself, Akaashi smiled. It was weak and watery but it made Bokuto’s face light up. “You’re too kind to me, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto shook his head and pressed his forehead against Akaashi’s. “No one could ever be too kind to you. You’re the best, ‘Kaashi.”

“Stop saying such nice things to me after I was so awful to you last night.”

“That wasn’t nice,” agreed Bokuto. “It hurt my feelings. But now I know you didn’t really mean it. You were upset too. But next time just tell me you’re upset, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But if you ever really mean it,” he said, pulling back a little, “if you ever really don’t want to see me, tell me that, too. I want you to be happy, ‘Kaashi. I want-”

Akaashi cut off whatever ridiculous thing he was going to say with a kiss. Bokuto’s mouth was soft and warm and he smelled of morning breath, but Akaashi kissed him anyway.

Akaashi loved him. He hadn’t wanted to think about it because he was scared of it, scared of what it meant. He was scared of giving so much of himself to another person because he didn’t have much left that hadn’t already been given.

But whatever little bit he had left, it was Bokuto’s. He trusted Bokuto with anything. He trusted him with _everything_.

“I’ll never mean it,” he whispered against Bokuto’s lips. “I’ll never say it again, because I’ll never mean it.”

Bokuto pulled him close and Akaashi buried his face in that broad chest. He thought of staying there forever, because when he was in Bokuto’s arms, his other problems felt less pressing. 

“Thank you,” said Akaashi after a short while. He closed his eyes and relaxed into Bokuto’s warmth.

“For what?”

“For being here,” said Akaashi. He thought of leaving it at that, but decided that Bokuto deserved to hear what was on his mind. Bokuto deserved the whole world, and though Akaashi couldn’t give him that, he would offer whatever he could. “For giving me a chance even though I never really deserved it. For seeing me as something other than a whore.”

Bokuto sat up so quickly that the entire mattress jolted. “Don’t say that.”

Akaashi reclined back on Bokuto’s pillow and looked passively up at him. “Prostitute, then. Using a different word doesn’t change what it is.”

“I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

Akaashi felt another swell of affection and thought his heart may smolder right out of his chest. “I know, Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto laid back down on his side and reached for Akaashi’s hand. Their fingers folded together easily, as if they’d practiced the motion for years.

“I chose to do it for the money,” said Akaashi. He stared down at their interlaced hands as he spoke, a confession that he’d never made to anyone else. “Mostly, anyway. In my last year of high school I got accepted into a private university with a prestigious pre-law program. My parents planned to fund my education, of course. I found a nice apartment and they agreed to pay for that as well. My family isn’t exactly rich, but they’re quite well off.”

He expected Bokuto to ask a question or two but he remained quiet, the low whisper of his breath the only sound between them.

“The day I moved out was the day I decided to tell them about my sexuality,” said Akaashi. His voice was even, although his gut twisted from the memory. “I thought it was best to do it then so they would have an adjustment period afterward to come to terms with it. It didn’t quite work out that way. It was possibly the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

Bokuto scooted closer, his warmth searing into Akaashi’s side. 

“I was disowned in a heartbeat,” said Akaashi. It was more than he’d ever cared to talk about himself, but it needed to be said. “The deposit for the apartment had been paid, but that was all. My tuition was due and my bills were only a couple of weeks away and I had to figure out something fast. I happened to wander by Fukurodani one day and saw their hiring notice.” He sighed and squeezed Bokuto’s hand lightly. “I knew it would pay well. Those types of jobs always do. That was the biggest reason, but also I did it out of spite. I suppose on some level I wanted to show my parents just how right they were about me.”

“Akaashi.” It was a true whisper, quieter than Bokuto’s voice had ever been.

“It wasn’t so bad after the first few weeks,” said Akaashi. He easily pushed the thought of his parents’ horrified faces out of his mind. The echoed memory of their cutting insults was a bit more difficult to put aside. “I got used to it quickly. The money has always been excellent. More than I could have expected. But now…” 

He trailed off, and Bokuto didn’t push. He snuggled closer, wrapped an arm around Akaashi’s waist, and simply held him.

Akaashi closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing but Bokuto. He would have to face the rest of his problems soon enough, but he could have just this moment.

All too quickly that solace was interrupted.

“Are you guys decent?” called Kuroo. “Cover it up, I’m coming in.”

Akaashi didn’t move but Bokuto shifted a little, his arm never leaving Akaashi. 

“It’s in the kitchen,” said Kuroo. He sounded like he was in the room but Akaashi wasn’t going to raise his head to check. “Get it while it’s hot.”

“Hey, ‘Kaashi,” said Bokuto. “Want some food? Kuroo brought breakfast.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Breakfast in bed, then,” said Kuroo. “Give me one second.”

“Bring yours too,” Bokuto said, raising his voice as Kuroo walked away. “There’s room for all three of us!”

Akaashi finally raised his head to look at Bokuto, who grinned down at him. “I’m kidding. Come on, sit up. It’s our traditional post-fight breakfast. We do it all the time.”

Akaashi frowned, but pushed himself off of Bokuto’s chest. “Then shouldn’t I have provided it?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Kuroo owes me a couple breakfasts.”

Akaashi chose not to argue. Really he wouldn’t have argued even if Bokuto had been serious about letting Kuroo pile into bed with them. Akaashi owed Kuroo. If he hadn’t called that morning, Akaashi wasn’t sure what he would have been doing just then.

Kuroo returned with a bag full of takeout and a tray of triple coffees. He doled out two containers and two cups to Bokuto and Akaashi, and then retreated to Bokuto’s desk chair with his own serving. 

Akaashi thanked him, received a rather pleased “You’re welcome” in return, and for a while they ate in silence.

“What are you going to do now, then?” said Kuroo. His food was pushed to the side, largely untouched, but the coffee hadn’t left his hand. 

Akaashi frowned down at the takeout container in his lap. “I don’t know.”

“You can get a job somewhere else, right?” said Bokuto. “Anybody would hire you.”

Though appreciated, his optimism wasn’t exactly helpful. “I could, but there are very few jobs at which I would make enough to pay my bills and my tuition. Even if I found one, I would have to work full-time. If I work that many hours I won’t have time to focus on my grades, which means I won’t get accepted into law school. That’s why Fukurodani was a good choice. I only worked three nights a week and made more than enough money. It was convenient, and…”

And he hadn’t had a choice. He could live a normal life by abandoning the entire idea of school and getting a regular job. He knew that, but he also knew that it wouldn’t be good enough for him. Akaashi had to finish school and become something his parents said he could never be. If he didn’t, then he would never be satisfied with himself. 

“You can stay with us,” said Bokuto, his sunshine voice redirecting the negative haze of Akaashi’s thoughts. “Then you wouldn’t have to pay for bills and stuff. That would help, right?”

Akaashi reached out for Bokuto’s hand, to soften the rejection. “No offense, Bokuto-san, but I need to keep my apartment. I need to be able to make it on my own. I do appreciate the offer.”

He had to make it on his own, because he’d been repeatedly told that he couldn’t. 

Bokuto seemed a little crestfallen, but he didn’t appear completely dejected.

“We’ll help you out,” said Kuroo. “You’ll find something. You’re a smart kid.”

“I’m only one year younger than you.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Akaashi tilted his head. “If we’re considering maturity rather than years, however, I daresay I’m your elder.”

“Bo, your boyfriend is being mean to me.”

“Only because you deserve it,” said Bokuto through a mouthful of food. “You were mean to him first.”

Kuroo shrugged and let that go. It was the truth.

“I’m exhausted,” said Akaashi. It was amazing how tiring a sleepless night and an hour of unloading emotional baggage could be. “I guess I’ll head home and-”

“You can stay here!” said Bokuto. He swallowed his rice and added, “I mean, if you want to. I’m going to pass out in the next five minutes. I honestly don’t even know how I’m even awake right now. So if you want to stay and sleep here that would be okay.”

Akaashi’s mouth twitched and he suppressed it automatically. Then he remembered he was here with Bokuto, and he had no reason to hide anything about himself from Bokuto.

He let himself smile, and though it pulled at his mouth strangely, it was worth the brightness in Bokuto’s eyes.

“I would like that, Bokuto-san.”

With Bokuto smiling at him, it was easy to let his sense of dread about the future slip away. Maybe Kuroo was right. It would take a little time, but everything would be just fine.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sayo-ko made some amazing art for this fic! ~~and i'm still screaming about it~~ Go check it out [ Here!](https://sayo-ko.tumblr.com/post/166067946913/hey-so-theres-this-bokuaka-fic-called-behind)

Two weeks later, everything was not fine, and Akaashi was starting to panic.

His panic was atypical and not very obvious. As with all of his emotions, he tended to internalize. Rather than experiencing nervous jitters, visible stress, and unrelenting restlessness, he simply felt himself withdrawing.

He knew he was doing it, but he couldn’t stop. There was a heavy ball of anxiety in his chest, and he found himself focusing on it more frequently than he focused on his surroundings.

Akaashi had spent more hours than he could recall searching for a new job. It wasn’t that there were none to be found. Tokyo was a big city. There were plenty of businesses who were looking to hire. The problem was that whenever he stumbled across a decent job, they were only considering applicants with prior experience.

He knew that no employer would appreciate his sort of prior experience.

Akaashi had limited himself to seeking entry-level jobs, and he’d found several that he likely could have acquired. Aside from the low wages, though, the offered hours were a problem. There were either so few that he wouldn’t be able to live off of the pay rate, or so many that he couldn’t balance them along with his school schedule.

He’d checked with his university to see if they had any employment assistance programs, and they’d provided him with a long list of local law offices. Working with any of them would definitely help Akaashi in the future.

But that list only offered unpaid internships, and that did nothing to solve Akaashi’s problems.

“Something wrong with your food, ‘Kaashi?” said Bokuto. He nudged Akaashi’s thigh with his knee. “You’ve been staring at it for a long time.”

Akaashi blinked, took a moment to reorient himself, and raised his head to find both Bokuto and Kuroo staring at him. He glanced to the side, giving himself a quick reminder of which restaurant they’d decided on. He hadn’t really paid attention when they’d arrived. “It’s fine, Bokuto-san. I was just thinking.”

“What about?” said Bokuto, though he certainly knew already.

Akaashi picked up his chopsticks and poked at his food. It was udon and tofu. He couldn’t recall ordering it. “Nothing in particular.”

There was a beat of silence. Akaashi made himself take a bite, though he didn’t feel hungry at all. 

Kuroo pushed his bowl back far enough to lean his arms on the table. “You know you can talk to us about this, right? You don’t have to keep it all to yourself.” He flicked a glance at Bokuto and added, “We’re getting kind of worried about you. You’re being weird.”

“It is physically impossible for me to transcend the level of weirdness embodied by your hairstyle,” said Akaashi flatly.

Bokuto snorted.

“Okay, well I’m just trying to help,” said Kuroo. He sat back and folded his arms, frowning. “You didn’t have to go and make it personal.”

Bokuto snorted again, and hid a choked laugh behind his hand.

Akaashi looked up at Kuroo, unimpressed. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Maybe.”

Akaashi blinked once, then looked back down at his food, poking at the noodles absently. “I doubt that.”

Beside him Bokuto sighed, then reached out to thread his fingers into Akaashi’s. “Really though,” he said, uncharacteristically quiet. “I guess the job search isn’t good?”

The ball of anxiety in Akaashi’s chest swirled into a maelstrom. He tightened his hand around Bokuto’s and sat back, discarding his chopsticks. “I haven’t found anything. My skills don’t translate well to other sorts of careers. Any of the jobs that I could get won’t pay well enough for me to continue my education and keep my apartment. I might have to consider other options.”

He didn’t say what those other options were, but he thought that Kuroo, at least, knew what he meant.

Konoha had told him a few days before that they still hadn’t filled his position at Fukurodani. The applicants had been consistently substandard. Konoha had said that the boss would probably grovel at Akaashi’s feet if it would make him come back.

Of course Konoha wasn’t suggesting that Akaashi should. In fact, he was vehemently opposed to it.

Still, against his better judgment, Akaashi found himself considering it. He didn’t want to go back, and he knew he would be absolutely miserable if he did, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“Stop thinking about whatever you’re thinking about,” said Kuroo. “If it makes your face look like that then you’re not going to do it.”

Akaashi looked up at him in surprise. He hadn’t thought his face had changed. He wasn’t particularly expressive. Either Kuroo was exceptionally observant or they’d spent enough time together to allow Kuroo to read him.

He vaguely recalled the first time he’d met Kuroo, which had been an occasion of mutual disdain. 

He didn’t know the exact moment when he’d started mentally classifying Kuroo as a friend.

“What about loans?” said Bokuto, brightening as if he’d discovered the solution to world hunger. “You can take out student loans! They’ve got all kinds at the university! If I didn’t have a sports scholarship I would’ve gotten some because my parents couldn’t pay for my tuition.”

He looked so pleased with himself that Akaashi wanted to agree, just to preserve the smile on Bokuto’s face.

“I could do that,” said Akaashi, “but I would have to borrow an extremely high amount. My school is quite expensive since it is private, and if I get accepted into law school, it will be worse. It’s impossible for me to borrow enough to cover my entire education. I could get a loan to get me through a year, but when I finish school I won’t be able to pay it back. If I become an attorney I won’t make much money at all when I’ve finished school. It takes quite a bit of time to become established and collect a consistent income. I’d rather avoid future debt if possible because it will only make things more difficult in the future.”

Bokuto seemed to deflate a little. “Scholarships?” he suggested with a small spark of hope.

Akaashi squeezed his hand again, gently. “My school doesn’t offer academic awards because the standards of acceptance are already so high. My income would be low enough to qualify for some financial assistance, but I have a hefty savings account with my name on it that prevents me from being under the poverty threshold. Unfortunately, my parents’ names are also on that account and they’ve sealed it so I won’t have access until they die. Even then they’ll likely donate it to charity rather than allow me to have it.”

Bokuto sank a little lower in his seat. Akaashi nudged him with his elbow.

“Please don’t worry, Bokuto-san. I’m still looking. I’m sure I’ll find something.”

Bokuto nodded. Across the table, Kuroo looked unconvinced by Akaashi’s fabricated optimism.

“You can still come live with us, you know,” said Kuroo. “If you need to.”

“I still appreciate the offer, but again I must decline.”

Bokuto slouched forward and started on his food again. It was a little awkward because his right hand was still laced with Akaashi’s.

Kuroo still stared at him, eyes narrowed. Akaashi could see the thoughts buzzing in his mind, and it made him a little uneasy.

“We’ll figure something out,” said Kuroo. His tone was odd. “Right, Bo?”

“Right!” said Bokuto through a mouthful of noodles. 

Akaashi appreciated their support, though he still didn’t like the strange light in Kuroo’s eyes.

They finished their dinner and went back to Bokuto and Kuroo’s apartment to watch a movie. 

Akaashi was pleased. If they were watching a movie, he didn’t have to pretend to be present.

  
  
  
  
  
Two days later, Akaashi was wandering along a busy street in the business district, making rounds to all the companies to see if they were hiring.

He’d been to eleven businesses so far, and it didn’t appear that he was going to have any luck. 

His cellphone rang as he stepped up to the corner in preparation to cross the street. There was already a huddle of people waiting, all of them dressed in professional attire. Akaashi had worn slacks and the nicest button-up he could find, but still he felt somewhat underdressed. He wondered if that was affecting his luck, but disregarded the possibility. Even if he’d worn a million-yen suit, these companies still wouldn’t hire him.

He accepted the call as the light changed and he joined the herd of people merging into the crosswalk. “Hello?”

“Hey, Akaashi. What’s up?”

It was Kuroo, and his voice was a little too upbeat.

“What do you want?” said Akaashi.

“That’s a rude way to greet someone who’s about to solve all of your problems.”

“I’m not moving in with you.”

“No, that’s not- Hey, where are you right now? It sounds loud.”

He was probably referring to the taxi driver who had just blown his horn six times in quick succession in response to a slow vehicle creeping down the street. 

“I’m downtown, near the Sumitomo building.”

“That’s not too far from here. Come over to our place. I need to talk to you.”

“You’re currently talking to me.”

“No, like _really_ talk to you. It’s important.”

Akaashi sighed. He wanted to argue on general principle, but it wasn’t as if it was an inconvenience to him. He had planned to check a few more businesses, but he could just come back tomorrow after class. His schedule wasn’t exactly booked. “Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Great! See you soon, ‘Kaashi!”

Kuroo ended the conversation with the nickname he’d picked up from Bokuto, and Akaashi hardly even noticed. 

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and changed directions, heading north again. 

Kuroo had sounded optimistic, but the ball of anxiety still living and thriving in Akaashi’s chest didn’t allow him to become hopeful. Whatever solution Kuroo thought he’d found would probably be like all of the others; good in theory, but with a huge, underlying issue that prevented Akaashi from accepting it.

Maybe this idea would be different, but Akaashi really doubted it.

  
  
  
  
  
When Kuroo opened the door, his grin was wide and smug and distinctly feline.

Akaashi stared back at him, expressionless.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi,” said Kuroo, stepping back and waving him in. “Bo’s not here, but his class should be over soon. Let’s go into my room. If he shows up I don’t want him to overhear.”

Akaashi wasn’t sure how to react to that, but he followed Kuroo’s lead without complaint. As he stepped through the door, he realized he’d never seen the inside of Kuroo’s bedroom. It was a reversed replica of Bokuto’s, if somewhat messier. That was unexpected. Akaashi had assumed Kuroo would be the neater of the two.

“Have a seat,” said Kuroo, gesturing toward his bed. “Make yourself at home.”

Akaashi would have preferred to sit somewhere else, but the desk chair against the far wall was so piled with clothing that there was no room for him. Akaashi perched on the edge of the mattress and Kuroo followed, dropping down beside him.

Kuroo leaned back on his hands and said, “Okay, so this is going to sound weird, but hear me out.”

“Kuroo-san, are you flirting with me?”

“What?” Kuroo’s hand slipped and he almost fell back. “No! Why would you think…” He trailed off, glancing from Akaashi to the closed bedroom door and then to the small distance between them. “Oh. Okay, I see where you’re going with this. I invited you over when Bo is gone, and… but no, I’m not. No offense, though. It’s not that I’m not interested. You’re hot as fuck. I mean, I’m not saying I _am_ interested, because I’m not, but not because of you, because of-”

“Please stop,” said Akaashi. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Kuroo stuttered into silence, and Akaashi felt inwardly smug about the faint blush that rose in Kuroo’s cheeks. 

Suddenly Kuroo’s persona of self-satisfaction was gone, drained away and replaced with something a little more self-conscious. He sat up straighter and scooted an inch farther from Akaashi.

“Alright, so… like I said, this is going to sound a little weird, considering, but… think about it before you say no, okay? I think it’s a good idea.”

“It still sounds like you’re about to proposition me.”

Kuroo heaved a sigh. He ignored the jab and got straight to the point instead. “I think you should be an escort.”

Akaashi stared at him, the ball of anxiety momentarily dissipating and fading into a buzzing numbness that tingled to the tips of his fingers. He felt empty, but when he spoke, there was a surprising amount of venom in his voice. “Don’t you think I’ve considered that?” He was on his feet before he’d decided to move, stomping toward the door.

Kuroo seized his wrist, pulling him back.

“No, wait, wait! I shouldn’t have said it like that, I don’t mean… Akaashi, wait, just give me five minutes.”

Akaashi looked down at Kuroo’s hand, still looped around his wrist. His glare was so scalding that Kuroo yanked his hand back like he’d been burned.

“Please,” said Kuroo, raising his hands between them. “Let me finish.”

Akaashi continued to glare, but he remained in place.

“I don’t mean you should do what you used to do,” said Kuroo. “Obviously you shouldn’t. I mean you should be a _real_ escort. Not a prostitute.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, Kuroo-san.”

“I have a friend who’s an escort,” said Kuroo. He spoke quickly, as if afraid Akaashi would leave before he finished. “Like, he gets paid to go to dinner and events and do fancy shit. He makes a lot of money, too. He’s really popular at the agency he works for because he’s good-looking and he knows how to make people happy. Not in a sexual way, just in general. I think it would be good for you, ‘Kaashi. It’s kind of the same thing you were doing, only without the gross part.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow.

“Not that I think you’re gross!” said Kuroo. He huffed a breath and slapped a hand over his face. “Fuck. This conversation went a lot more smoothly in my head.”

Kuroo was getting flustered. It made Akaashi think of Bokuto, and that eased his tension. 

“Thank you for thinking of me,” said Akaashi, “but they won’t hire me.”

Kuroo’s hand slid away from his face. He looked confused. “Why?”

“Those sorts of agencies are really prestigious,” said Akaashi. He knew about those sorts of companies, of course, but he’d never taken the time to really consider them. It was something that was beyond the capability of a Fukurodani worker. “You have to meet very high criteria to be accepted. I don’t know your friend” – although he had a fairly good guess as to whom Kuroo may be referring – “but I’m going to guess he’s extraordinarily attractive and charismatic, else he wouldn’t have been given the job.”

Kuroo’s face was blank. “So?”

Akaashi cleared his throat. “So I wouldn’t fit in, Kuroo-san. My appearance and demeanor is acceptable for something like Fukurodani, but high-level agencies wouldn’t accept me.”

Kuroo’s brows pulled together, his mouth pulling into a frown. It looked unnatural on a face that was always smiling. “Akaashi, please tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t joke.”

Kuroo plopped his hands on Akaashi’s shoulders, his face serious. He was only slightly taller than Bokuto, but from that close, it seemed to be a significant difference.

“Akaashi,” said Kuroo slowly. “You know a minute ago, when I said you’re hot as fuck? I wasn’t kidding.”

Akaashi knew he was attractive, at least to some degree. He didn’t think his appearance was up to the standard that Kuroo stated.

“Your personality isn’t too bad, either,” said Kuroo. He dropped a hand between them and seesawed it back and forth. “You’re kind of a dick sometimes, but I think you could be a lot nicer if you were getting paid. We can work on that.”

Akaashi brushed Kuroo’s remaining hand off of his shoulder and stepped back again. “Even if that’s true, it’s not as if I can walk into one of those agencies and request a job. There are a lot of attractive people in Tokyo. Connections are needed to get accepted, and I don’t have any.”

“Wrong,” said Kuroo. Finally he smiled again, though it was a little subdued. “My friend said he’d help you out. He’s worked there for a couple of years now. He’s one of the top escorts, so he’s got some influence. He said he’d meet up with you to talk about it, if you’re interested. I think you should try it. It will solve all of your problems and Bokuto will stop staying awake all night surfing through job postings.”

Akaashi’s heart sank. He hadn’t known Bokuto was doing that.

“I still don’t think they’ll accept me, Kuroo-san,” said Akaashi, though the idea had taken root in his mind. He tried to envision it. It would be similar to Fukurodani as far as people paying for his company, but without the added service of sex. “Even if they would, it doesn’t solve my problem. The sex wasn’t the issue.”

Kuroo considered him, his jaw twitching as he chewed at the inside of his cheek. “It was an emotional thing, right?” he said quietly. 

Akaashi had to look away. “Something like that.”

“This isn’t like that,” said Kuroo. He still spoke quietly, his tone almost gentle. Still, it didn’t feel patronizing. It only felt as if he truly cared. “You don’t have to pretend to like these people. Not romantically, anyway. They know you’re not interested and they’re not stupid enough to pretend that you are. They just want someone to show off, and maybe someone to have a conversation with. The guys you used to deal with wanted an escape. They wanted to forget their problems and pretend that they were good enough to have someone like you, if just for one night. These guys want something different. It’s more of a status thing for them. They’re showing off, not using you. Not like that, anyway.”

It didn’t seem as bad, thinking about it in that way. If Akaashi didn’t have to act like he cared for them, then he could probably do it. 

Then again, it sounded too easy.

“I’m not sure about this.”

Kuroo grinned. “You’re thinking about it, though,” he said, “so that’s a start. How about I call my friend and see when he can meet with you? He can give you more details so you can decide.”

Akaashi took a breath, held it, and expelled it slowly. “Sure. Thank you, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo’s smile was blinding, and the ball of anxiety shrank by a small degree.

  
  
  
  
  
Akaashi met with Kuroo’s escort acquaintance a week later. 

He was largely unsurprised to discover that it was Oikawa Tooru.

“Well, well, well,” said Oikawa, his smile a bit condescending. “Look who it is.”

Akaashi’s stare was flat as Oikawa sat across from him. 

Kuroo had arranged for them to meet at a café not far from Bokuto’s apartment. He’d sworn Akaashi to secrecy regarding Oikawa’s identity, and had promised that he’d done the same with Oikawa. 

Akaashi remembered when he’d first met Kuroo and had concluded that he would be nothing more than a pain in Akaashi’s ass.

He supposed, in light of recent events, he would have to rethink that opinion.

“Good afternoon, Oikawa-san,” said Akaashi. He took a sip of his coffee and eyed Oikawa over the rim of the cup. Oikawa had carried over some sort of hot chocolate concoction that looked like liquid diabetes.

Oikawa’s grin widened. Clearly the excess sugar wasn’t having a detrimental impact on his teeth. They were perfect. “Tetsu-chan wouldn’t tell me who I was supposed to be meeting, but I assumed it must be you. I heard from an old friend at Fukurodani that their best male escort walked out. Did you finally get tired of it, Aka-chan?”

Akaashi carefully kept his face blank, refusing to flinch at the horrendous nickname. “It isn’t something I want to do anymore.”

Oikawa nodded with faux solemnity. “Love will do that sometimes.”

Akaashi took another drink of coffee and didn’t respond. He already wasn’t a fan of Oikawa, and the way that he spoke as if he knew something about Akaashi’s life was off-putting.

Still, if he really could help Akaashi get a job at a legitimate escort agency, he could endure whatever annoyances Oikawa threw at him. He’d thought about it a lot – so much that he’d lost a good deal of sleep – and he’d determined this was the best possible scenario.

“Anyway,” said Oikawa. He slurped up some of his drink and sighed in satisfaction. “I can probably get you in at Seijoh, if you’re really interested. I typically don’t recommend anyone, but I have a soft spot for ex-Fukurodani. It was my home once, too. Although if you tell anyone that I’ll have to gouge out your eyes and feed them to you.”

Akaashi glanced up at him, expecting a smile or a wink that suggested it was a joke.

Oikawa was smiling, but it was sharp enough to cut glass, and his eyes were cold.

“I have no reason to tell anyone,” said Akaashi. “I have no plans to talk about anything pertaining to Fukurodani for the rest of my life.”

The hardness of Oikawa’s stare faded. “Okay then. You know, I was prepared to lecture you about how you need to learn to be more personable and smile and all that,” he said, twirling a finger, “but now I’m thinking this whole condescending attitude might actually work for you. There’s something appealing about it.”

Akaashi was unimpressed. “I’m not condescending.” 

Oikawa tilted his head. “Maybe that’s not the right word. You’re just sort of… haughty? Pretentious, maybe. Some clients are into that.”

Akaashi raised a brow. “Then why are they interested in you?”

“Because of my dashing looks and irresistible charm, obviously,” said Oikawa, flicking at his bangs. “I’m a favorite.”

“You must be a good actor, then.”

Oikawa grinned. Then he realized Akaashi hadn’t meant that as a compliment. “Excuse you. My personality is delightful. Do you want my help or not?”

Akaashi considered it. He’d thought about it since his talk with Kuroo the day before. Even after picking out every minute issue that may be involved with an escorting career, he still believed it was the best possible option. He’d discussed it with Bokuto, who’d agreed. 

Bokuto had said as long as Akaashi was happy, he would be happy.

Akaashi still wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve Bokuto.

“Yes,” said Akaashi after a moment. He folded his hands in front of him and resigned himself to Oikawa’s company. “Please advise me, Oikawa-san.”


	14. Chapter 14

Time seemed to still for a moment as Bokuto launched into the air, arm pulled back and knees bent, his eyes burning bright even from across the stadium.

Then he slammed the ball across the net, past a two-man block, and the cheer of the crowd was deafening in Akaashi’s ears.

It took an extreme effort of will for Akaashi not to cheer as well. He was on the edge of his seat, fingers clenched together so tightly that they ached. His heart thundered in his chest as Bokuto slapped a high-five against Kuroo’s upraised palm. 

“You’re really into this, huh?” said the man on Akaashi’s right. 

Akaashi glanced up at him, just remembering his presence. He managed to look sheepish. “I apologize, Nakano-san.”

“There’s no need,” said Nakano. He sat back and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. “It’s good to see you enjoying yourself. Usually everyone I bring along tries to seem engaged, but it’s obvious they’re bored out of their minds.”

Akaashi kept his eyes averted away from the court, though it was difficult. He made himself smile, a slight curve of his lips that he’d practiced over the past few months. It wasn’t like the outrageous grins that Oikawa gave away like free candy, but it was enough to make his clients believe he was charming. “I would never be bored at a game. This is my favorite team.”

Nakano smiled in return, clearly pleased. “Good to hear. I’ll have to bring you along with me in the future.”

“I would like that, Nakano-san.”

Nakano looked back to the game, still smiling, and Akaashi took that as permission to refocus on the match below them.

It was extreme coincidence that he’d been booked to accompany someone to the championship game in which Bokuto’s university team was competing. He would have been there all the same, but it was more convenient to have been brought along as an escort for Nakano, who was the CEO of a prestigious Tokyo business. Akaashi’s ticket had been paid for, he’d gotten a seat with a fantastic view, and he was going to be treated to dinner afterward. 

He would have rather gone out with Bokuto and his team after the game, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

Oikawa had stepped back to serve, and Akaashi watched him with begrudging interest. The first time he’d seen one of Bokuto’s games, he hadn’t spared enough attention for any of the other players to even recognize Oikawa. Now that he took the time to watch him, it was clear that Oikawa was a spectacular player. 

His serve shot over the net like a bullet and the opposing team wasn’t quick enough to receive it.

Akaashi had discovered, since getting to know Oikawa, that he intended to play professionally. It had been Oikawa’s dream since high school, and after watching his techniques, Akaashi couldn’t come up with a single reason why he wouldn’t be successful.

Though Oikawa was annoying more often than not, Akaashi hoped he made it.

Oikawa had helped Akaashi more than he really liked to admit. He’d gotten Akaashi a job with Seijoh, taken him under his wing, and taught Akaashi all of his secrets to success.

Akaashi had been confused at first. Oikawa wasn’t exactly the altruistic type. It was only later that Akaashi had figured out Oikawa was planning to retire from the business soon. The only reason he’d stayed in it so long was to continue to build connections with rich and influential clients who could help him get closer to his dream of playing professional volleyball. Now that he was on the correct path he didn’t need to keep up the routine for much longer.

That was fine with Akaashi. Once Oikawa left Seijoh, he felt it wouldn’t be difficult to secure the status of the top male escort at the agency. He’d done it at Fukurodani; he had no doubt that he could do it again.

Bokuto slammed down another spike and Akaashi clutched the edge of his seat to keep from leaping up in triumph.

“That number four is pretty good,” said Nakano, as Bokuto pumped his fists in the air. 

“Yes,” said Akaashi. The smile that flitted across his face was fond and genuine. “He’s very good.”

He was the best, in fact. In more than just volleyball.

Since this was the championship, it was no surprise that their opponents were good. Luckily, Bokuto’s team was better.

The game dragged into the third set, but a quick toss from Oikawa and a well-placed feint from Bokuto pushed their team to victory.

The stadium erupted in a cacophony of screams. Akaashi knew he needed to keep his composure but he found himself on his feet anyway, yelling along with the crowd.

On the court Bokuto and Kuroo slammed into a rough embrace, clutching clumsily at the backs of each other’s jerseys. Oikawa stepped to the edge of the court and waved up into the crowd with a grin. Iwaizumi leaned over the rail just above him, his mouth open in a cry of triumph.

Adrenaline buzzed through Akaashi’s veins. His spirits were so high that they weren’t even bogged down when Nakano touched his shoulder and leaned in to say, “Ready to go get dinner?”

Akaashi nodded, eyes drawn back to the court as Bokuto spun in place, searching the crowd with those wide golden eyes. 

There was no way he’d be able to pick Akaashi out of the mass of people, but he knew he was there. Akaashi would congratulate him properly later. 

He took Nakano’s proffered arm, walked with him out to an idling, chauffeured car, and didn’t even have to fake his smiles for the rest of the evening.

  
  
  
  
  
His time with Nakano ended at ten o’clock. He requested to be dropped off on a corner near Nekoma. He would have liked to have gone home and changed first, but wasn’t about to ask Nakano to drive him directly to his apartment. That was something that Oikawa had taught him early on. Never give the clients any indication as to where you actually live.

It was good advice, as was his encouragement to never let his drink out of sight. Akaashi already knew that one, though.

He said his goodbyes to Nakano, who seemed overall pleased by Akaashi’s company. Akaashi certainly hoped he’d made a good impression. He’d heard from the other escorts that Nakano had a tendency to tip well.

Akaashi exited the vehicle and waited for it to drive out of sight before he started walking toward the club. He knew the team had gone out to dinner following the game and had planned to continue the celebration at Nekoma if they won. It had been a pretty solid plan. None of them had expected to lose.

Akaashi nodded at the bouncer, Kai, with whom he’d become more familiar. Kai waved him inside without a second glance. 

Akaashi assumed Bokuto and his team had already arrived. He hadn’t been able to check his phone for the past few hours, but Bokuto wouldn’t have contacted him anyway. He knew the rules that Akaashi had to follow and he’d never shown any inclination to break them. 

As soon as Akaashi stepped through the door he received confirmation that the team was definitely present.

The level of sound inside the building was absolutely uncalled for. There was yelling and screaming and absolute _screeching_ , all courtesy of the rowdy group of college boys claiming an entire quarter of the club.

Not for the first time, Akaashi considered walking right back out the door.

Bokuto caught sight of him before he made the decision and his shout pierced through the overlapping voices. 

“Akaaaashi!”

Akaashi raised a hand in greeting. He certainly wasn’t going to shout back. He started toward the group and Bokuto met him halfway, sweeping him into an embrace that stole his breath. Akaashi squeezed back and smiled against Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Akaashi, we won!”

“I know, Bokuto-san. I was there.”

“I’m so excited!”

Akaashi wriggled out of the sturdy arms and pressed Bokuto’s face between his hands. Bokuto blinked at him, wide-eyed, and Akaashi said, “You played well tonight, Bokuto-san. I’m very proud of you.”

Bokuto’s face crumpled a little beneath the weight of his emotions, then he glowed more brightly than ever. “Thanks, ‘Kaashi.” He slid his arms back around Akaashi’s waist and leaned in to kiss him.

There were catcalls from the team and Akaashi easily ignored them.

When they broke away, Oikawa pretended to gag. “Do you have to do that all the time?” he said, rolling his eyes in the dramatic manner that Akaashi had gotten used to. “It’s gross.”

“Really?” said Hanamaki, one of Oikawa’s old high school friends. Akaashi had met him several times. “You and Iwaizumi are way worse.”

“You tried to eat his face off in the middle of a history lecture last week,” chimed Matsukawa, another of Oikawa’s friends.

“That’s different,” Oikawa protested. He looked around for Iwaizumi to support him, but he’d gone off to the bar to get more drinks. “Iwa-chan and I are _adorable_.”

Bokuto slipped his fingers between Akaashi’s and tugged him off to the side. “Come on, I got us some drinks! I figured you’d get here soon.”

Akaashi followed and found himself seated next to Kuroo, who slid a grin at him. “Hey, hey, Akaashi. I would say it was too bad you missed dinner but you probably had something better than cheap yakitori, huh?”

“If you consider a five-star restaurant better,” said Akaashi, “then yes.”

Kuroo’s stare was flat. “You’ve spent too much time with Oikawa.”

“Don’t insult him,” said Bokuto, sliding a glass in front of Akaashi. “Akaashi’s nothing like Oikawa.”

Akaashi reached for the drink without hesitation. Bokuto had gotten it for him, and he implicitly trusted Bokuto. Even if someone had spiked it when no one was looking, which was unlikely, he knew that Bokuto wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. Akaashi still wasn’t a fan of alcohol, but he didn’t mind having a drink every now and then. 

“So was your date okay?” said Bokuto, scooting closer to Akaashi. “Was he nice?”

Akaashi shrugged as he took a sip. It was sweet on his tongue and he didn’t taste the bitter twist of alcohol. Bokuto must have ordered him the virgin version. His consideration was appreciated.

“He was a fan of your team,” said Akaashi. “Even he thought you played well, Bokuto-san. I wanted to tell him you were my boyfriend. I’m sure he would have been jealous.”

Bokuto grinned. “If he was jealous it would be because _I_ get to date _you_.”

“You know,” said Kuroo, “I’m actually going to side with Oikawa on this one. You guys are getting pretty gross.”

Bokuto stuck his tongue out. 

“Thank you, Tetsu-chan!” came Oikawa’s distant reply, almost drowned out by the thump of the music. 

“Don’t encourage him,” said Akaashi.

His phone buzzed for the first time that night and he leaned to one side to dig it out of his pocket. He checked the message and found a picture of Konoha and Yukie, smiling at the camera and flashing matching peace signs. The caption read: _We watched the game. Tell Bokuto congrats!_

Akaashi smiled to himself and tucked his phone away. He would show Bokuto later. He would appreciate the sentiment. Recently, Bokuto and Konoha had become tentative friends.

Bokuto’s arm slid across his shoulders, the warmth soaking through his shirt. “You look good tonight,” said Bokuto. He leaned close to murmur in Akaashi’s ear, so they wouldn’t continue to incite criticism. “Really good. What if I’m jealous that you got all dressed up for someone else?”

He was only teasing. Akaashi knew very well that Bokuto had never been jealous of his clients. He had no reason to be. Akaashi had never experienced even a fraction of his feelings for Bokuto for anyone else. 

“That’s unfortunate, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi, leaning into him with a smile. “I suppose I’ll have to think of some way to make it up to you.”

He turned his head slightly, just enough to brush his lips against the edge of Bokuto’s jaw. 

Then Bokuto turned into him and their mouths slid together, hot and sweet. Bokuto’s hand threaded through Akaashi’s hair and Akaashi reached to grip the front of Bokuto’s shirt. 

There were a few murmured complaints and snide comments from the others, but Akaashi ignored them. It was easy to ignore everything else when his senses were overwhelmed by Bokuto.

When they broke away, the taste of Bokuto’s beer strong on Akaashi’s tongue, Kuroo heaved a dramatic sigh. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to keep me up all night again,” he said. “I can’t take it.”

“Not all night,” said Akaashi. He reached for his drink and leaned back into Bokuto. “Only a couple of hours.”

Kuroo groaned and Akaashi smiled into his drink. Kuroo was overplaying the situation, but Akaashi was unbothered. Most of the time he and Bokuto restricted their extracurricular activities to Akaashi’s apartment. They were usually only loud in Bokuto’s apartment when Kuroo was absent.

“You know,” said Bokuto, his lips brushing Akaashi’s ear, “I’ve been celebrating for a few hours now. We could head back soon and celebrate on our own.”

Akaashi pressed closer to him and smiled. “I’d like that, Bokuto-san.”

  
  
  
  
  
It was fortunate that Kuroo had decided to stay at the club a little longer. They had gone back to Bokuto’s apartment, and they certainly weren’t being quiet.

Bokuto’s moan was loud in Akaashi’s ears and it set his blood aflame.

“Right there, Bokuto-san?” he said, pushing his hips forward and sliding in deeper. He knelt between Bokuto’s legs and placed a hand on each of his knees, keeping them spread apart. 

“’Kaashi… just a little more… up… _Ah!_ ”

Akaashi angled his next thrust a little more upward, and Bokuto’s yelp suggested that was the spot he’d been looking for.

Akaashi adjusted his position, shifted his grip on Bokuto’s knees, and slammed into him.

“A- ak- _Akaashi!_ ”

Akaashi set a quick pace, thrusting in and out, the squeeze of Bokuto around him bringing his breath short. 

Bokuto bucked his hips up to meet him, his hands fisted in the sheets, broken sounds escaping as he panted. “’Kaashi… yes, oh fuck, yes… it’s so good, it’s so… fuck… ‘Kaashi, I’m gonna…”

Akaashi freed up a hand and wrapped it around Bokuto’s length, stroking and thrusting in tandem, working him until Bokuto threw his head back with a sharp moan and came _hard_.

“’Kaashi,” he gasped, as Akaashi pressed deeper inside him before completely withdrawing. “’Kaashi, you can still-”

“Hush, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He gripped his own throbbing length and started pumping, the slide smoothed by lube. Akaashi’s eyes traveled the lines of Bokuto’s body, lingering on the come spattered across his stomach and chest. Bokuto was looking back at him, eyes clouded but still bright, nothing but adoration reflected in his gaze. 

“You’re so beautiful, ‘Kaashi,” he said, his voice quiet compared to the moaning of a moment before. “Fuck, you’re just amazing.”

Akaashi would have thought it was only post-orgasmic bliss making Bokuto say such things, had he not heard them in entirely different contexts before.

He bit down on a moan as he came hot across Bokuto’s stomach, the spray mingling with the mess already painted across the lean planes of Bokuto’s body. 

Akaashi sat back on his heels and barely kept himself from collapsing. He took a few long breaths as his heart rate slowed, trying to put himself back together.

“You need a shower, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto mumbled something indecipherable. 

Akaashi trailed long fingers from Bokuto’s knee up over his thigh and to his hip. Bokuto shivered beneath the light touch. “Bokuto-san…”

“Don’t wanna,” murmured Bokuto. He threw an arm over his face, as if it would render him invisible. “I’m tired, ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi sighed, more fond than exasperated. “I’ll get you a towel to clean up with,” he said. “Don’t roll over until I get back. You’ll get come everywhere.”

Bokuto grumbled, but didn’t protest. Akaashi slid out of the bed and plucked his underwear out of the floor, pulling them on for a measure of modesty. Even if they were alone, it felt strange wandering around the apartment naked.

When he stepped out of the bedroom, he was suddenly extremely thankful for his underwear.

Kuroo leaned against the kitchen counter, still dressed in his clothes from the club. At least one of his brows was raised; the other was hidden behind a fringe of dark hair. There was nothing to hide the smug smirk on his face.

As Akaashi pulled the door shut behind him, Kuroo said, “Sounds like you’re having a good night, Akaashi.” He briefly glanced down at Akaashi’s near nudity. “Looks like it too.”

Akaashi stared flatly back. He’d gotten used to Kuroo now, well enough to know when he was serious. Kuroo wasn’t looking at him in a suggestive way. He was only joking, and Akaashi was okay with that. 

“I have no complaints. We weren’t expecting you back so soon, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo shrugged and pushed off of the counter, moving to yank open the fridge. “I decided I’d bring someone home, too. I can’t let you guys outshine me all the time, you know?”

Akaashi waited for him to elaborate. Lately Kuroo had stopped bringing girls back from the club. It had probably been a couple of months since Akaashi had seen him with anyone.

Kuroo didn’t have to explain, because the raised voice coming from Kuroo’s bedroom made everything clear.

“Kuro, bring some snacks, too!”

Akaashi raised his brows at Kuroo, only a touch surprised.

“Alright, kitty cat!” Kuroo called back.

“Don’t call me that!”

Kuroo grinned, and Akaashi felt his mouth curve into an answering smile. 

“That’s a relief,” said Akaashi. “Kenma is probably quieter than the occasional banshee that I’ve heard in your room.”

“Oho, you’d be surprised.”

Akaashi shook his head and turned away. It wasn’t something that he wanted to think about in depth. “Have a good night, Kuroo-san.”

“Oh, I will. Breakfast in the morning?”

“Sure.”

“’Night, Akaashi.”

When Akaashi returned to Bokuto’s room with a damp towel, Bokuto hadn’t moved. The only indication that he was still awake was his mild squirming as Akaashi cleaned him off. 

When he was satisfied, Akaashi tossed the towel into the floor, turned off the lamp, and slid into bed beside Bokuto. Strong arms reached out for him and Akaashi curled into him, his face pressed against Bokuto’s chest, their legs tangled together. 

“Love you, ‘Kaashi,” said Bokuto, the words mumbled into Akaashi’s hair.

“I love you, too, Bokuto-san.”

For a while Akaashi just breathed in Bokuto’s scent, his fingers dancing lightly along a broad shoulder and a firm bicep. Then he said, quietly, “Bokuto-san?”

“Mmm.”

He was already mostly asleep. Akaashi should probably just wait until tomorrow to tell him.

Still, he found himself saying, “I heard back from those law schools today.”

Bokuto sucked in a breath like he’d been dunked in a tank of ice water. “Akaashi!” He pushed himself up on an elbow and looked down at him, his golden eyes reflecting the light filtering in through the window. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It was the championship game,” said Akaashi. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“You could’ve told me afterward!”

“You were celebrating,” said Akaashi, “and I didn’t want-”

“What did they say?” said Bokuto, leaning closer in his eagerness. “The schools. What did they say?”

Akaashi smiled a little as he said, “I got accepted into both.”

“Akaashi!” he said, so loudly that Kuroo and Kenma must have heard. “I knew you would! You’re so smart and so awesome and so…” He trailed off, blinking a few times as the reality settled into place. “So, uh… which one are you going to go to? The one here in Tokyo, or the one in…?”

He didn’t finish the question. He didn’t have to.

Akaashi pushed himself up, so he and Bokuto were face to face. “It was a difficult decision,” he said solemnly, “but I’ve decided I’ll choose the one in Tokyo. The other one is a bit more prestigious, but this one has its benefits, too.”

Bokuto stared at him. Then his face broke into a broad smile.

“I mean, I’ve lived in Tokyo for a while,” said Akaashi, “so I’m familiar with the area. I have an apartment here, too, so that’s convenient. Oh, and I suppose since my boyfriend lives here, that’s good as well.”

“’Kaashi.” Bokuto kissed him, warm and honey-sweet and familiar. “I’m so happy for you. You’re going to do so great! You’re so great.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. Now get some sleep, I know you’re tired.”

“No way!” said Bokuto. “We need to celebrate! We need to-”

Akaashi silenced him with a well-placed kiss. “Tomorrow,” he murmured against Bokuto’s lips. “It can wait.”

It could wait, because Akaashi knew that when he woke up in the morning, Bokuto would still be there. They would be together tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. Akaashi had never loved someone the way he loved Bokuto, and he knew he never would again. He would never need to, because he had no intention of ever letting him go. They drifted off together, as they would many more times in the future, and woke up in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the actual sappiest ending I've ever written but I couldn't help myself.
> 
> I just want to thank you guys for being so supportive throughout this fic! I almost didn't even post it because I was afraid the subject was a little too controversial, but you've all made me really glad that I did it anyway. 
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested, I'm starting a new yakuza!au next Friday, so stay tuned.


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